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UNSVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
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THE  GIFT  OF 

MAY  TREAT  MORRISON 

IN  MEMORY  OF 

ALEXANDER  F  MORRISON 


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BY 


MRS.  L.  C.  LANE. 


Scrijiseris 


<  *     *     *     »     *    Si  quid  tanien  olim 

*  ttonuinque  prematur  in  annum  : 

*  *     *    nescit  vox  missa  reverti." 


"  But  if  ever  you  shall  write  anything,  let  it  be  suppressed  till  the  ninth  year ; 

a  word  once  sent  abroad  can  never  return." 

— Horace. 


SAN    FR.\NCISCO: 

A.  L.   BANCROFT  &  COMPANY. 

1886. 


J      ' 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1886, 

By  Mrs.  L,  C.  Lane, 

In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.  C. 


1  1 
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D  i  IS 


Inviting  beam  the  skies  of  Morning  lands 
To  us  who  tarry  by  far  Western  strands ; 
The  pilgrim's  longings  in  our  bosoms  wake, 
From  wonted  task  we  willing  respite  take  ; 


N        'Neath  Southern  Cross,  'neath  Northern  Star, 
^        With  questioning  eye  and  thought  we  wander  far, 
While  now  fair  Art  and  now  sweet  Nature  wooes, 

Z.        And  rival  lands  with  varying  charm  confuse. 

in 

oE 

c:        Reluctant  back  to  shores  that  claim  our  birth 

o 


We  turn,  to  find  the  fairest  spot  on  earth 
Is  home,  sweet  home." 


P.  C.  L. 


4g9780 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

I.  —  QUEENSTOWN — CoRK — BlARNEY  CaSTLE — LaKES 

OF   KiLLARNEY MUCKROSS    AbBEY        -        -         -  9 

11. — Antiquity  of  Ireland — Bogs — St.  Bridget's 
Monastery  —  Ancient  Dublin — Strongbovv 
and  Eva — Past  and  Present — University 
and  Parliament  House     -       -       -       -       -     26 

III. — Round  Towers  —  Portrush — Giants'  Cause- 
way      -          -          -          -          -          -         -  39 

IV. — Glasgow — Edinburgh — Ayr      -         -        -  50 

V. — London — Royal  Institute     -          -         -         -  58 

VI. — Climate — Men  and  Women       -          -         -  70 

VII. — London — Letter  to  a  Friend        -         -         -  82 

VIII. — St.  Paul's — Westminster  Abbey         -         -  88 

IX. — The  Tower  of  London  -----  104 

X. — Knights  Templer  and  Their  Temple  -       -  117 

XL — British  Museum  —  Carlyle  in  his  Home  — 
Albert  Memorlal — National  Portrait  Gal- 
leries—  Huxley  AS  Teacher  and  Lecturer 
— London  School  of  Cookery    -         -         -  131 


vi.  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

XII. — Avignon — The  Year  of  Jubilee  -         -       145 
XIII. — Avignon — Letter  to  a  Friend         -         -  i55 
XIV. — Avignon — History     -         -         -         -        159 

XV. — Savoy  —  Uriage — Mt.    Cenis    Tunnel — 

Italy    -         -         -         -         -         -         -169 

XVI. — Milan — Palace  and  Cathedral   -         -        177 
XVII. — M I L  A  N  —  Galleria     Vittorio  —  Italian 

Lakes  -         -         -         -         -         -         -184 

XVIIL— Switzerland — Lak  e   Lucerne — Lake 

Geneva    -         -         -         -         -         -        192 

XIX. — The   Rhine — Cologne — Berne  —  Stras- 

BURG — Hamburg  -         -         -         -         -  201 

XX. — Denmark — Copenhagen — Market    Place 

— Holmenskirche    -         -         -         -        213 

XXI. — Copenhagen  —  Thorwaldsen —  His   Life, 

Works  and  Museum     -        -         -         -  224 

XXII .  — Copenhagen  —  Fredericksberg  Have  — 
Gardens  of  Tivoli  and  Vauxhall — 
Denmark's  Sculptors       -         -         -        235 

XXIII. — From  Denmark  to  Norway — Christiania  -  243 

XXIV. — Scenery  IN  Norway — Incidents  of  Travel  253 

XXV. — Autumn  in  Norway — Rural  Life    -       -      262 

XXVI. — Lake     Tinn  —  The    Oldest    Church    in 

Norway — Dress    and    Morals   of    the 

Peasantry    -         -         -         -         -         -  270 

XXVII. — Falls  of  Tinnefoss — A  Norwegian  Inn — 

Return  to  Christiania    -         -         -        279 


CONTENTS.  vii. 

CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

XXVIII. — Sweden  and  its  Lakes — A  Swedish  Inn    -  286 
XXIX. — Stockholm — House  of  Emanuel  Sweden- 
BORG  —  Royal    Palace  —  Hotels  — -  Ole 
Bull        -         -         -         -         -         -        294 

XXX. — Stockholm — Public    Building  s —  Royal 

Mausoleum  --         -         -         -         -302 

XXXI. — Stockholm's    Museum  —  Mythology    in 

Statuary  and  Paintings — Relics     -        310 
XXXII. — Upsala  —  Its   University  —  Cathedral — 

Monuments — Home  of  Linnaeus   -         -  320 
XXXIII. — St.  Petersburg — View  of  the  City  from 
the  Neva — Beauty  of  Architecture — 
Brilliancy  of  Coloring  -         -         -        329 
XXXIV. ^ — St.    Petersburg  —  Tomb    of    Alexander 
Nevsky — Statue  of  Peter  the  Great 
— Magnificent   Churches — Surpassing 
Splendor    of   the   Cathedral  of    St. 
Isaac  -------  337 

XXXV. — St.  Petersburg — Winter  Palace   -       -       348 

XXXVI. — St.  Petersburg  — Devoutness  of  the 
People — Tea  Drinking  and  Smoking — 
Imperial  Museum  of  Catherine  the 
Great — Fortress  of  St.  Peter  and  St. 
Paul  —  Royal  Tombs — -Visit  of  the 
Czar  to  the  Tomb  of  his  Son  -  -  357 
XXXVII. — A  Royal  Celebration  in  Berlin — The 
Emperor  of  Germany  and  his  Court — 
The  Chapel  of  the  Old  Schloss  -       -  370 


viii.  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

XXXVIII.— Alexandria  — Egyptian  W o men  — Cos- 
tumes— Street  Scenes  -  -  -  380 
XXXIX. — From  Alexandria  to  Cairo  —  Happy 
Beggars — Water  Carriers — Villages 
OF  Mud  Huts — A  Moslem  Burying- 
Ground      ------   388 

XL. — Cairo — Hotels — Pyramids  —  Visit   to  a 

Bedouin's  Home    -         -         -         -        396 
XLI. — Heliopolis — Mary's   Well — Obelisk  of 

OusERTAN — Dragoman — Sais       -         -  409 
XLII. — Citadel  of  Cairo — University  of  Egypt 

— Mosques    -----        420 

XLIII. — Palace  of  Gheezeh — Departure    -         -  43° 


LETTERS  OF  TRAVEL. 


I. 

QUEENSTOWN— CORK— BLARNEY   CASTLE— LAKES   OF 
KILLARNEY— MUCKROSS  ABBEY. 

^F  there  be  any  among  us,  who,  after  a  sea 
voyage  longer  or  shorter,  does  not  bless 
his  sole  when  his  foot  once  again  presses 
the  solid  earth,  he  must  be  of  other  than  Dar- 
winian origin, — one  whose  ancestry  is  to  be  traced 
to  some  beknighted  Finn,  or  at  least  to  the  finny 
tribes;  and,  if  he  land  in  the  lap  of  Oueenstown, 
as  she  sits  in  her  terraced  loveliness,  gracefully 
encircling  the  Cove  of  Cork,  he  may  well  be 
content  with  the  beauties  of  earth,  forgettinof  those 
of  the  waters  under  the  earth. 

Oueenstown  was  formerly  known  by  the  name 
of  Cove,  which  was  changed  to  its  present  name 
in  commemoration  of  a  visit  of  the  Queen.  A 
half  hour  up  the  river  Lee  by  boat,  or  along  its 
banks  by  rail,  brings  us  to  the  city  of  Cork.  One 
need  not  wish  for  a  more  charminof  introduction 
to  any  country  than  this  gives  to  the  stranger. 
Indeed,  nowhere  else  in  Ireland  did  we  find  nature 


lO  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

SO  wreathed' in  smile?, as  on  the  picturesque  banks 
pf  :th"e  ,''ii\)fer'L'ee,' .'whete  she  greeted  us  with  an 
aspect  as  bright  and  cheering  as  the  welcoming 
Horht  in  the  eves  of  a  friend. 

Cork,  which  must  have  been  uncorked  when 
we  were  there,  judging  from  its  dripping  wet, 
offers  but  little  attractive  or  interesting.  Perhaps 
what  first  strikes  the  American  here  is  the  resem- 
blance of  the  physiognomy  of  the  population  of 
this  city  to  that  of  our  larger  ones,  particularly  of 
the  Eastern  States.  This  must  come  from  the 
mixture  of  Irish  blood,  which  the  large  stream  of 
immigration  has  brought  to  us.  The  erect  figure 
of  the  people  here  was  somewhat  remarkable, 
and  we  watched  in  vain  to  see  the  bent  form  of 
age.  They  may  be  crushed  to  earth,  but  they 
manaofe.   nevertheless,  to  carrv  their  heads  hi^jh. 

The  local  feature  which,  perhaps,  most  strangely 
impresses  Cork  upon  the  mind,  is  the  Shandon 
steeple,  of  which  three  sides  are  white,  being 
built  from  the  ruins  of  the  Franciscan  Abbey; 
the  other  side  is  of  red  sandstone,  from  the  ruins 
of  an  old  castle.  In  this  steeple  hang  the  beauti- 
ful toned 

*'  Bells  of  Shandon, 

That  sound  so  grand  on 
The  pleasant  waters 
Of  the  river  Lee," 

which  inspired  Father  Prout  to  write  the  song 
which   is  sure  to  awaken  in  the  memory  of  us  all 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  1  I 

I 

some  tone  that  will  almost  drown  the  Present  in 
its  magic  recalling  of  the  Past;  for  of  all  the 
familiar  sounds  of  our  earlier  years,  perhaps  there 
is  none  so  universally  recalled,  and  recalled  with 
such  touching  pleasure,  as  the  wonted  music  from 
the  church  bells,  throbbmg  in  tune  with  the  pulse 
of  harmonious  Nature,  or  vibrating  with  deep- 
toned  voice  through  the  hushed  air  of  the  city 
Sabbath. 

"With   deep   affection, 
And  recollection, 

I  often  think  of  those  Shandon  Bells, 
Who?;e  sounds  so  wild  would, 
In  the  days  of  childhood, 
Fling  round  my  cradle 
Their  magic  spells." 

Whoever  comes  to  Cork,  comes  as  a  matter  of 
course  to  Blarney,  or  to  Blarney  Castle,  which  is 
but  five  or  six  miles  distant.  Although  a  pretty 
enough  ruin,  it  is  more  romantic  from  the  light  of 
song  than  from  the  shades  of  time. 

"Oh,  when  a  young  bachelor  wooes  a  young  maid. 
Who  's  eager  to  go,  and  yet  willing  to  stay. 
She  sighs  and  she  blushes,  and  looks  half  afraid, 
Yet  loses  no  word  that  her  lover  can  say. 
What  is  it  she  hears  but  the  blarney  ? 
Oh,  a  perilous  thing  is  this  blarney! 

Oh,  say,  would  you  find  this  same  blarney, 
There's  a  castle  not  far  from  Killarney, 

On  the  top  of  the  wall — 

But  take  care  you  don't  fall — 
There's  a  stone  that  contains  all  this  blarney." 


12  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

The  Blarney  Stone  here  pointed  out  as  the  "rale 
stone,"  is  at  the  top  of  the  tower  in  the  wall  just 
below  the  parapet,  where  it  is  clasped  by  two  iron 
bands  and  could  only  be  reached  by  hanging  head 
downwards  through  the  embrasure,  at  the  risk  of 
breaking  one's  neck.  I  have,  however,  good 
reasons  to  believe  that  we  have  stones  of  the  same 
virtue  nearer  home  and  much  easier  of  access.  If 
the  traveler  now  asks  whither  he  shall  next  go,  his 
own  fancy  and  all  Ireland  will  point  to  the  Lakes 
of  Killarney,  and  on  to  Killarney  he  is  sure  to  go. 
The  railroad  brings  him  there  three  hours  from 
Cork. 

The  town  of  Killarney,  which  contains  upwards 
of  5,000  inhabitants,  is  the  property  of  the  Earl 
of  Kenmare,  a  Roman  Catholic  peer.  It  is  an 
untidy-looking  town,  offering  no  inducements  to 
stop  at  the  very  inviting-looking  hotel,  and  you 
are  almost  certain  to  proceed  some  three  miles 
further  to  one  of  the  several  hotels  overlooking, 
or  in  near  vicinity  to,  the  lakes. 

And  what  a  drive  of  wondrous  beauty  is  this ! 
The  road,  somewhat  narrow,  but  white  and  smooth 
as  a  floor,  is  enclosed  on  both  sides  by  high  stone 
walls  that  shut  out  in  a  great  measure  the  sight  of 
the  fields  beyond;  directly  behind  these  walls, 
extend  on  both  sides  for  some  two  miles  unbroken 
lines  of  majestic  trees,  which  stand  quite  close 
together  and  form  overhead  so  dense  an  arch  of 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  1 3 

leafy  verdure  that  the  noon-day  is  converted  into 
twilight.  The  peculiar  beauty  comes  upon  you  so 
suddenly  and  envelops  you  so  completely,  that 
you  begin  to  think  of  the  fairies  of  this  country, 
and  you  believe  in   the  beauties  of  fairyland. 

As  you  approach  the  few  scattered  dwellings 
called  by  courtesv  the  "  Villaofe"  of  Cloehreen,  the 
landscape  opens  to  the  view,  and  on  a  hill  at  our 
left,  a  burial-place  to-day  as  it  was  in  the  past,  we 
see  the  ancient  church  of  Killaghie,  said  to  be  the 
smallest  in  the  kingdom,  as  is  easily  believed. 
It  is,  of  course,  of  stone,  walls  and  roof  still 
unbroken,  the  former  three  feet  thick,  while 
the  roof,  half  covered  with  wild  flowers  and 
grasses  that  have  taken  root  in  its  crevices,  looks, 
and  probably  is,  equally  heavy.  The  stone  belfry 
is  partly  in  ruins  ;  the  floor  inside  is  fallen  in,  but 
at  the  end  we  see  a  plain  marble  altar,  a  foot  or 
two  in  front  of  which  several  steps  descend  into 
a  burial  vault,  the  remains  of  whose  tenant  or 
tenants  have  long  since  disappeared.  If  they 
built  according  to  their  faith,  the  faith  of  the 
builders  must  have  been  small. 

At  the  foot  of  this  hill,  and  just  fitted  in  size 
to  the  way-side  nook  it  occupies,  is  a  beautiful  little 
modern  church,  which  the  Protestant  owner  of 
this  demesne  has  built,  and  which  he  supports  for 
himself  and  tenantry.  It  forms,  in  its  architect- 
ural taste  and  harmony    with  the  scene,  a  minia- 


14  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

ture  gem  in  the  chain  of  magic  beauty  thrown 
around  the  Lakes  of  Killarney. 

The  greatest  charm  of  Irish  scenery  Hes  in  its 
coloring  ;  the  green  is  wonderful,  so  brilliant,  so 
living,  intense,  yet  delicate  as  a  fairy's  wing  ;  and 
no  one  endowed  with  any  degree  of  sensitiveness 
to  the  power  of  Nature,  could  tarry  by  the  Lakes 
of  Killarney  without  being  impressed  by  a  sensa- 
tion almost  supernatural  in  the  magic  effect  of  the 
hushed  air,  unbroken  by  song  of  bird  or  hum 
of  insect,  and  this  greenness  of  Nature's  robe 
almost  unearthly  in  its  beauty,  and  intensified  by 
the  constant  gray  of  the  skies  overhead.  We  felt 
the  effect  of  the  stillness  for  some  days  before  we 
thought  to  inquire  its  cause,  and  were  greatly 
astonished  at  finding  its  apparent  explanation  in 
the  absence  of  birds  and  almost  total  absence  of 
insects. 

On  the  morning  after  our  arrival,  just  at  that 
state  of  uncertain  consciousness  when  one  is  apt 
to  be  opening  the  mouth  instead  of  the  eyes,  a 
voice  called  to  us,  "  Are  you  going  through  the 
gap  to-day?"  Supposing  this  to  be  the  Irish  way 
of  asking  if  one  was  waking  up,  we  answered, 
"Yes;"  but  the  experience  of  a  day  or  two  con- 
vincing us  that  the  people  here  were  not  much 
given  to  being  wide  awake,  we  took  pains  to  find 
out  the  meaning  of  this  regular  morning  saluta- 
tion, and  found  it  to  mean  nothing  else  than  to 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  1 5 

ask  if  we  were    going    to  make  the  tour  of  the 
lakes  that  day. 

After  waiting  for  good  weather  and  seeking  in 
vain  for  some  weather-wise  seer,  we  were  obhged 
to  do  as  everybody  else  did — prepare  for  rain, 
hope  for  sunshine,  and  start.  For  the  profit  of 
the  people  hereabouts,  whose  only  business  seems 
to  be  to  swarm  around  travelers,  our  trip  is  broken 
into  parts,  so  that  a  large  number  of  persons  are 
called  upon  to  wait  on  us,  and  thus  a  larger  num- 
ber of  those  "remembrancers"  which  one  is 
expected  to  give  to  everyone  who  serves  him,  are 
distributed  every  day  among  a  dozen  or  more 
persons,  who  find  fault  with  a  sixpence,  look  dis- 
contented with  a  shilling,  and  are  never  quite 
contented  with  one's  attempt  to  satisfy  their 
"  whatever  you  please  sir." 

On  reaching  the  town  of  Killarney  we  were 
surrounded  by  a  score  or  more  of  men  and  boys 
with  ponies,  which  they  wished  us  to  hire  for  our 
ride  through  the  Gap  of  Dunloe,  to  which  our 
conveyance  was  to  carry  us,  and  through  which 
there  was  no  reason  it  should  not  take  us,  except 
the  principle  of  division  of  labor,  or  rather,  of 
wages.  It  was  almost  impossible  to  rid  ourselves 
of  this  cavalcade,  which  accompanied  us  more 
than  a  mile,  when  it  began  to  diminish  till  finally 
it  numbered  two  ponies  to  each  passenger.  In 
vain  did  we  tell  the  extra  ones  that  they  were  not 


1 6  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

wanted.  In  vain  did  we  explain  that  none  of  us 
intended  to  ride  more  than  one  horse  at  a  time; 
each  one  understood  himself  and  pony  to  be  hired, 
and  went  with  us  till  he  despaired  of  being  hired 
to  turn  back. 

Havinof  rode  some  eio;ht  or  ten  miles,  our  driver 
told  us  that  was  as  far  as  the  conveyance  was  to 
take  us,  so  at  his  request,  "remembering  the 
driver,"  we  left  hini  to  mount  our  ponies,  and,  by 
the  way,  the  only  "Irish  bull"  I  saw  in  Ireland  was 
an  "Irish  pony,"  for  in  length  and  height  the  pony 
is  a  good-sized  horse  and  can  only  derive  its  name 
from  its  semi-transparency. 

All  the  way  from  Killarney,  after  having  first 
been  accosted  by  the  man  with  the  bundle  of 
shillelahs  under  his  arm,  who  invited  us  to  buy 
"a  rifle  that  never  missed  fire."  wc  had  been 
followed  by  troops  of  children,  who  made  nothing 
of  running  and  keeping  up  with  the  carriage  or 
"car"  for  a  mile  and  begging  all  the  way.  "  The 
price  of  a  book,  sir,"  or  "a  penny,  sir,"  "don't  be 
so  small  with  your  silver,  sir,  and  we'll  show  you 
how  grateful  we'll  be,  sir;"  and  during  our  drive 
and  ride  of  more  than  a  dozen  miles  there  could  not 
have  been  a  mile  altogether  that  the  cry  for  a  gift 
was  not  being  sounded  in  our  ears;  little  children 
who  could  not  talk  enough  to  beg,  ran  by  the  side 
of  the  older  ones  till  they  tottered  and  fell.  The 
children    were    clean    and    healthy   looking,    and 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  1/ 

seemed  to  thoroughly  enjoy  the  business.  Their 
principal  cry  was  for  "the  price  of  a  book,"  and 
considering  how  little  they  cared  for  books,  this 
formed  one  of  the  ludicrous  features  of  the  trip. 
It  was  of  no  use  that  we  said  to  them,  "igfnorance 
is  bliss,"  "  knowledge  is  unhappiness,"  and  other 
trite  proverbs — they  still  insisted  that  the  thirst  for 
knowledge  is  as  insatiable  to-day  in  Erin  as  it 
once  was  in  Eden. 

Having  reached  the  Gap  of  Dunloe,  this  enter- 
tainment was  varied  by  the  addition  of  women, 
awaiting  at  intervals  of  a  few  steps  to  offer  us  a 
"dhrap  of  the  mountain  dew."  We  were  told  that 
from  the  place  where  we  took  horses  to  the  lake 
the  distance  was  four  miles,  and  the  few  unfortu- 
nate ones  who,  forgetting  it  was  four  Irish  miles, 
chose  to  walk  rather  than  to  trust  to  the  ponies, 
were  sadly  wearied. 

We  found  the  pass  by  no  means  equal  to  what 
we  had  been  lold  of  it.  The  grandest  feature 
was  the  Purple  Mountain,  which  rises  abruptly  to 
the  height  of  nearly  3,000  feet.  It  derives  its 
name  from  the  dark  stones  with  which  a  great 
part  of  its  surface  is  covered,  and  which  give  a 
dark  purple  color  to  the  mountain.  Our  expecta- 
tions were,  however,  more  than  realized  at  the 
wondrously  fine  echoes  at  several  points.  Never 
was  I  more  entranced  by  sound  than  when  I 
heard    the    voice  of   the    mountain    take  up    the 


1 8  LETTERS  OF  TRAVEL. 

bugle-notes  and  repeat  them,  first  from  near,  then 
from  afar,  till  we  felt  that  we  could  stand  for  hours 
listening  to  the  wild,  soft  music. 

We  pass  a  remarkable  stream,  which  the  guides 
call  the  "Hidden  River;"  it  is  apparently  the 
outlet  of  a  lake  beyond,  whose  waters  have  become 
lost  under  the  immense  heap  of  debris  of  rather 
small  stones  which  fill  up  the  bed  of  the  valley; 
the  ear  can  distinguish  the  sound  of  unseen 
running  water.  Beyond  this  we  come  to  a  lake 
whose  waters  are  dark  almost  to  blackness, 
under  the  shadow  of  the  overhanging  mountain  ; 
it  is  called  Serpent  Lake,  and  tradition  has  made 
St.  Patrick  select  it  as  the  burial-place  of  the  last 
snake  which  he  carefully  enclosed  in  a  wooden 
box  before  entrusting  it  to  these  waters  to  carry 
it  to  the  depths  of  Ocean. 

Passing  beyond  the  Purple  Mountain,  we 
emerge  into  the  Gap  as  the  road  turns  into  an 
open  country,  and  here  we  leave  at  our  right  a 
misty  gorge  extending  far  into  the  distance 
between  two  ranges  of  hills,  through  which  we 
indistinctly  trace  the  winding  course  of  the 
Gerhameen  River  making  its  way  to  the  waters 
of  the  Upper  Lake.  Here  in  this  black  valley 
"  fairies  love  to  dwell,"  and  many  a  guide  will 
tell  you  h(;  has  seen  them  there.  Soon  we  come 
to  the  Logan  Stone,  remarkable  for  being  so 
nicely  balanced  that  it  can  be  made  to  move  by  a 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  1 9 

slight  touch.  It  is  much  smaller  than  we  had 
imagined,  being  only  some  twenty  feet  in  circum- 
ference. 

At  last  we  reach  the  shore  of  the  lake,  and 
each  of  the  party  having  "remembered"  the 
bugler,  and  "remembered"  the  cannoneer,  we 
now  "  remember"  our  guides,  and  dismissing  them 
with  their  ponies,  enter  the  boats  that  have  been 
sent  up  from  the  hotel  to  meet  us  at  the  Lakes, 
the  boatmen  of  which  are  to  be  "remembered"  in 
their  turn,  although  the  services  of  all  these  men 
are  charged  to  us  again  in  our  bill. 

The  Lakes  of  Kdlarney  are  three  in  number 
and  about  eleven  miles  in  length;  the  Upper  Lake 
is  two  and  one-half  miles  long,  by  half  a  mile  in 
width;  it  is  more  completely  shut  in  by  the  moun- 
tains that  rise  abruptly  from  its  shores,  than  either 
of  the  other  lakes  ;  the  outlet  from  it  is  by  a  little 
strait  but  a  few  feet  in  width,  and  as  this  is  hidden 
by  jutting  rocks  we  seem  to  be  entirely  shut  in 
by  land,  and  the  eye  seeks  in  vain  for  an  outlet. 
This  lake  is  dotted  by  twelve  islands  covered  with 
vegetation,  mostly  the  wild  arbutus  tree  which 
grows  luxuriantly  everywhere  in  this  region.  The 
strait  connecting  the  Upper  and  Middle  Lakes 
which  are  also  known  by  the  names  of  Muckross 
and  Tore  Lakes,  is  about  two  miles  long,  and  at 
its  lower  end  we  reach  a  spot  as  romantically 
beautiful  as  can  be  found  in   Ireland.      Here  the 


20  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

trees  dip  their  branches  into  the  unrippled  water 
that  borrows  its  coloring  from  the  surrounding 
foHage.  and  the  scene  impresses  itself  upon  one's 
mind  as  a  perfect  picture  of  placid  loveliness. 
The  spot  is  called  "The  Meeting  of  the  Waters," 
for  here  at  the  outlet  of  the  Upper  Lake  you  may 
turn  westward  into  a  bay  which  opens  into  the 
Lower  Lake,  or  eastward  directly  into  Muckross 
Lake. 

Here  a  picturesque-looking  stone  bridge  of 
two  arches  spans  the  stream,  making  an  entrance 
into  the  Middle  Lake  quite  romantic  enough  to 
harmonize  with  the  ofeneral  scene.  This  lake  is 
about  the  length  of  the  upper  one,  and  not  more 
than  a  mile  in  width.  It,  too,  has  its  islands,  but 
the  tourist's  attention  is  more  occupied  with  the 
echoes  which  the  guide  will  not  fail  to  awaken. 
The  Muckross  peninsula  makes  the  division 
between  the  Middle  and  Lower  Lakes. 

The  Lower  Lake  also  bears  the  name  of  Lou^^h 
Leane,  which  means  the  Lake  of  Learnincj,  said 
to  be  derived  from  the  fact  of  its  shores  and 
islands  havin^f  formerlv  been  the  site  of  several 
monasteries,  the  ruins  of  which  still  remain.  This 
is  a  very  probable  inference,  since  there  is  unques- 
tionable testimony  that  learning  flourished  in 
Ireland  in  the  early  ages,  when  the  rest  of  Europe 
was  in  a  benighted  condition.  This  lake  is  five 
miles  long    and    two  and   a   half  miles  in   width. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  2  1 

Its  outlet  is  the  River  Laune,  through  which 
the  waters  of  these  charminor  lakes  are  carried 
to  mix  with  the  great  waves  of  the  sea,  there, 
like  a  modest  maiden  entering  the  vortex  of 
society,  to  lose  a  charm  which  neither  the 
grandeur  nor  the  noise  of  their  future  career  can 
ever  replace. 

Lough  Leane  makes  an  impression  upon  the 
beholder  quite  distinct  from  that  of  the  other  two; 
first,  from  its  wider  expanse,  and  secondly,  from 
its  shores,  which,  though  on  one  side  bearing  in 
the  background  mountains  that  bespeak  sister- 
hood with  the  other  lakes,  encircle  it  the  rest  of 
the  distance  with  a  low,  soft  landscape.  The 
surface  of  the  lake  is  broken  by  nearly  thirty 
islands,  among  which  the  visitor  will  be  most 
curious  to  see  that  of  Innisfallen. 

On  this  island  we  find  no  attraction  wanting 
which  this  lovely  region  can  afford,  and  as  the 
gods  and  goddesses  of  Greece  once  loaded  Pan- 
dora with  gifts  to  make  her  more  complete,  so  must 
the  genii  of  Ireland  have  sought  to  endow  this 
spot  with  everything  to  make  its  beauty  perfect. 
The  remains  of  its  old  abbey,  said  to  have  been 
founded  1,200  years  ago,  lie  scattered  in  ruins. 
This  lake,  in  particular,  is  the  home  of  legendary 
lore.  The  rocks,  many  of  which  rising  from  the 
water  present  fantastic  shapes  wrought  by  the  dis- 
inteofratino-    touch    of  the    waves,  have    received 


2  2  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

names  relating  to  these  traditions,  as  the  O'Dono- 
ghue's  Horse,  the  O'Donoghue's  Castle,   etc. 

The  O'Donoghue  was  the  great  chief  of  this 
valley  in  ancient  times,  and  to  this  day  crosses 
the  lake  on  the  morning  of  the  first  of  every  May, 
the  waters  dividing  and  giving  a  dry  path  to  him- 
self and  the  white  horse  he  always  rides,  as  any 
one  may  see  with  his  own  eyes  if  he  will  get  up 
early  enough.  The  almost  hourly  fall  of  a  gentle 
rain,  which  resembles  mist  more  than  a  shower, 
is  known  as  the  O'Donoghue's  Blessings,  and  is,  I 
suspect,  the  secret  of  the  brilliant  green  color 
which  renders  this  vicinity  an  Emerald  Isle  indeed. 

And  now,  having  told  so  much  which  must 
command  the  admiration  of  every  beholder,  I 
come  to  that  which  was  first,  last  and  oftenest  seen 
by  me,  and  which,  by  the  thoughts  it  awakened, 
has  made  the  most  lasting  impression.  This  was 
the  ruins  of  Muckross  Abbey,  whose  stony  finger 
beckoned,  and  ever  beckoned  me  toward  it  and 
seemed  to  hold  me  under  a  spell.  No  ruined 
abbey  or  castle  in  all  Great  Britain  has  presented 
us  a  more  harmonious  picture  than  this.  In  many 
other  cases — and  usually  where  we  had  been  led 
to  expect  most — either  the  surroundings  have 
marred  the  effect  or  the  ruins  have  been  insufifi- 
cient  to  support  the  imagination;  but  here  was  a 
ruin  which,  like  the  Laocoon  to  the  hand  of  Art, 
might  serve  as  a  model  to  the  finger  of  Decay. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  23 

The  surroundinofs — the  frame-work  in  which  the 
abbey  is  set — brings  the  beholder  into  a  mood  to 
appreciate  the  chief  figure  when  he  suddenly  comes 
upon  it.  Soft  green  fields  stretching  all  around  as 
far  as  one  can  see,  and  to  the  borders  of  the  lake, 
glimpses  of  which,  here  and  there,  break  the  land- 
scape; add  to  the  picture  long,  shaded  avenues  of 
majestic  giant  trees,  ending  sometimes  in  thick 
copses  which  crown  the  rising  ground,  sometimes 
opening  into  fields  where  other  leafy  monarchs 
stand  in  isolated  orandeur,  but  evervwhere  with 
their  lofty  tops  and  wide-spreading  branches 
striving  to  cover  this  corner  of  the  earth  with  a 
heaven  of  their  own,  and  to  shut  out  every  inhar- 
monious effect ;  and,  having  been  obliged  to 
meander  far  enough  to  be  brought  wholly  under 
the  influence  of  this  landscape,  suddenly  the  gray 
walls  of  Muckross  Abbey,  half  overgrown  with 
ivy,  break  upon  the  vision.  The  roof  has  entirely 
disappeared,  but  the  walls  are  nearly  complete,  and 
the  beautiful  arches  of  door  and  window  unbroken. 
The  cloisters  surrounding  the  open  court  within 
are  entirely  perfect,  and  we  could  seem  to  feel  the 
hand  of  Ages  leading  us  as  we  made  round  and 
round  again  the  circuit  of  these  stone  aisles,  looking 
out  through  their  arches  into  the  open  space  shut 
in  overhead  by  the  branches  of  a  yew  tree  six 
hundred  years  old  growing  in  its  center,  and  ming- 
linor  the  shadow  of  its  branches  with  that  of  the 


24  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

old  gray  walls  surrounding  the  unmarked  graves 
of  the  monks,  who  centuries  ago  had  walked  as 
we  were  walking  under  these  same  arched  cloisters, 
had  looked  into  this  same  secluded  spot,  and  had 
listened,  perchance,  to  the  mystic  voice  of  this  same 
yew  tree,  whose  sapling  branches  witnessed 
nothing  more  cheerful  than  the  enfolding  in  the 
mantle  of  earth  those  who  had  long  before 
enwrapped  themselves  in  the  burial  cloak  of 
monastic  seclusion. 

Having  wandered  through  the  remaining  parts 
of  the  convent,  we  enter  the  chapel  through  a 
doorway  softly  draped  in  ivy.  and  stand  among 
the  tombs  of  the  old  Kings  of  Munster  and  Princes 
of  Desmond,  whose  royal  remains  here  found 
royal  sepulture  beneath  stones  whose  lettering  has 
been  effaced  by  the  passing  years,  and  from  which 
the  "gentle  rain  and  soft-falling  dew"  have  wiped 
off  the  proud  tracery  of  their  heraldic  crest. 
Proud  kings  of  olden  time,  little  did  you  dream  in 
your  day  of  pomp,  glory  and  power,  that  a  not 
far-distant  hour  was  to  snatch  your  envied  scepter 
and  give  it  to  other  hands ;  and  that  the  future 
was  to  witness  your  dust  lying  here  unwept  and 
almost  unknown,  honored  only  by  strangers  from 
far-distant  shores !  Though  forgotten  by  posterity, 
Nature  fails  not  in  her  homage  to  you,  since  the 
ivy,  old  of  uncounted  years,  never  ceases  to  hang 
garlands  of  unfading  green  upon  the  walks  that 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  25 

inclose  and  overshadow  your  tombs;  and,  still 
more,  though  unwept  by  your  subjects,  the  aged 
and  noble  yew  tree  that  has  struck  its  roots  deep 
into  the  earth  near  you,  never  forgets  to  drop  its 
tributes  of  grief,  funereal  offerings,  upon  your 
grave. 

MucKROSs,   Ireland,  July,   1874. 


26  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


II. 

ANTIQUITY  OF  IRELAND— BOGS— ST.  BRIDGET'S  MONAS- 
TERY—ANCIENT DUBLIN— STRONGBOW  AND  EVA- 
PAST  AND  PRESENT— UNIVERSITY  AND  PARLIAMENT 
HOUSE. 

T  is  difficult  for  an  American,  accustomed  to 
a  history  of  so  recent  a  birth  as  ours,  to 
cease — among  these  old  civilizations  of 
Europe — from  asking  the  question,  "  When  did  it 
begin?"  and  to  propound  to  himself  that  more 
proper  to  be  suggested,  "How  much  longer  will  it 
last!"  True  to  this  mental  index  of  nationality  I 
traveled  through  my  first  European  country — 
Ireland — and,  as  ruin  after  ruin  arose  on  the  nearer 
or  more  distant  horizon,  I  ever  asked  the  question, 
*'  When  did  it  begin — when  did  it  begin?" 

He  who  delights  in  the  ingenuity  of  fable,  may 
embark  on  the  ancient  chronicles  of  this  country, 
and,  riding  upon  the  waters  of  the  flood,  arrive 
at  the  antediluvian  history  of  Ireland,  which, 
according  thereto,  was  first  settled  by  one  of  Noah's 
nieces.  But  historians  who  have  cast  the  line  of 
investigation  into  the  deep  well  of  the  Past,  with 
no  desire  to  read  what  the  waters  of  the  flood 
must  have  washed  away,  still  find  much  to  indicate 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  27 

that  the  history  of  I  reland  reaches  far  back  into 
antiquity.  Moses  tells  us  that  the  isles  of  the 
Gentiles  were  inhabited,  and  interpreters  generally 
agree  that  by  this  is  meant  the  islands  of  Europe  ; 
and  it  is  supposed  by  some  archaeologists  that, 
before  the  introduction  of  idolatry  by  the  Milesians 
from  Spain,  a  patriarchal  form  of  worship  prevailed 
in  Ireland,  similiar  to  that  founded  on  the  statutes 
of  the  sons  of  Noah;  while  philologists  in  their  turn 
have  believed  to  discover  that  the  ancient  Irish 
language  bears  so  great  an  affinity  to  the  ancient 
Hebrew,  as  plainly  to  be  but  a  dialect  of  the  latter 
language,  and  they  make  this  a  foundation  for  a 
very  ancient  history  to  be  built  upon,  since  "if 
a  language  be  ancient  the  people  must  be  as 
old."  They  have  asserted,  moreover,  that  the 
ancient  Irish  language  has  no  affinity  with  any 
known  language  in  the  world  except  the  Hebrew 
and  Phenician,  and  have  supposed  it  to  have 
been  universally  spoken  throughout  Europe,  and 
to  be  the  most  original  and  unmixed  language 
remaining-. 

But  though  the  historical  atmosphere  of  Ireland 
is  as  misty  as  the  physical  atmosphere  of  its  most 
western  limits,  there  is  a  orreat  deal  of  interesting^ 
ancient  tradition  which  may  be  accepted  as  reliable, 
and  which  one  at  all  familiar  even  with  Irish  song, 
to  say  nothing  of  its  superstitions,  can  hardly 
help  stumbling  upon.      For  instance,  having  sung 


28  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

all  our  lives  about  the  harp  that  hangs  on  Tara's 
walls,  it  occurs  to  us  on  seeing  so  many  ancient 
castles,  that  "  Tara's  walls"  may  not  have  been 
a  mere  figure  of  speech  or  song ;  and  lo !  it 
becomes  a  definitely  located  capital  existing  six 
hundred  years  before  the  birth  of  Christ,  em- 
bellished by  royal  residences  for  all  the  kings, 
queens,  and  princes  of  the  different  provinces  of 
Ireland. 

Modern  travel  is,  however,  but  little  compatible 
with  dwellinof  lon^  on  anv  theme,  either  of  the 
past  or  present,  and  we  hurry  across  the  island 
behind  one  of  the  queerest-looking  steam  engines 
imaginable,  a  squatty  kind  of  carriage  that  looks 
as  if  sitting  down  to  rest,  and  we  are  surprised 
that  it  does  not  stand  up  when  ready  to  start,  but 
slips  along  in  its  apparently  half-sitting  posture. 
But  already  we  begin  to  enjoy  that  admirable 
regulation  in  this  country  in  regard  to  railroads, 
which  makes  it  obligatory  to  so  construct  the 
engines  that  they  shall,  to  a  great  degree,  consume 
their  own  smoke,  and,  after  having  from  one  side 
of  our  continent  to  the  other,  wiped  cinders  and 
smoke  from  one's  face  till  it  was  almost  raw,  it  is 
indeed  a  luxury  to  travel  almost  entirely  freed  from 
this  annoyance. 

Thus  enabled  comfortably  to  keep  the  eyes 
open,  we  curiously  scan  the  landscape,  whose  first 
well-marked   and    easily    recognized   features  are 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  29 

the  boo's,  and  we  see  in  them  the  natural  barricades 
of  the  country  in  earher  ages,  which,  doubtless, 
not  only  impeded  the  march  of  the  invader,  but 
stayed  the  progress  of  civdlization  as  well. 

Across  Ireland  from  Killarney  to  Dublin  is  a 
soniewhat  pleasant  ride  of  about  eight  hours,  a 
distance  of  about  one  hundred  and  eighty-six 
miles  by  rail,  during  which  the  stranger  is  kept 
constantlv  on  the  alert  less  he  miss  a  single  one 
of  the  many  ancient  castles,  which  are  scattered 
around  in  as  much  profusion  as  if  the  landscape 
were  a  playground  for  an  artist's  fancy.  Perhaps 
as  interesting  a  town  as  any  passed  is  Kildare, 
and  that  rather  for  its  vanished  past  than  tor  its 
present.  This  town  is  supposed  to  be  the  site  of 
an  ancient  monastery  founded  by  St.  Bridget, 
who  is  said  to  have  received  the  vail  from  St. 
Patrick's  own  hands  ;  and  there  is  a  tradition  that 
from  her  time  in  the  fifth  century  till  the  year 
1220  a  sacred  fire  kindled  by  herself  was  kept 
continually  burning  by  her  successors,  and,  being 
extinguished  in  that  year  by  the  Archbishop  of 
Dublin,  was  soon  afterward  rekindled  and  con- 
tinued to  burn  till  the  Reformation. 

Although  I  had  always  heard  of  Dublin  as  a 
beautiful  city,  and,  for  that  reason,  might  have 
expected  too  much,  I  was  not  disappointed.  There 
is  something  genial  and  cheery  about  it,  like  the 
soul  of  an    Irishman,   and    its    wide   and    cleanly 


30  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

Streets  have  a  most  inviting  aspect,  while  there  is 
a  good  number  of  fine,  commodious  and  well-kept 
hotels  where  the  traveler  may  find  real  refi'eshment 
at  no  exorbitant  charge.  Dublin  is  old  enough 
to  be  interesting  for  its  antiquity.  Ptolemy 
speaks  of  its  existence,  under  the  name  of  Eblana, 
as  early  as  the  year  140;  but  although  it  was 
enclosed  by  the  Danes  in  the  ninth  century,  their 
ramparts  did  not  exceed  one  mile.  A  century 
later  it  was  but  a  DOor  collection  of  huts,  and  at 
the  beginnino;-  of  the  eighteenth  century  it  was 
one  of  the  most  miserable  cities  in  Europe.  To 
the  traveler  of  to-day  its  charm  is  not  that  of 
ancient  association. 

From  the  earliest  historv  of  Ireland,  Dublin 
seems  to  have  been  an  apple  of  discord,  the  key 
to  supreme  power  in  the  Island,  the  Achilles 
tendon  at  which  invaders  were  sure  to  aim  their 
arrows.  The  last  king  of  Ireland  availed  himself 
of  the  aid  of  Strongbow,  Earl  of  Pembroke, 
against  his  enemies,  bestowing  upon  him  as  a 
recompense  the  hand  of  his  daughter.  Henry  II. 
of  England  forced  Strongbow  to  relinquish  to  him 
the  regal  power  thus  conquered.  There  is  now  on 
exhibition  here  a  very  large  and  most  interesting 
painting  of  the  Marriage  of  Strongbow.  The 
scene  is  laid  on  the  side  of  a  hill  surmounted  by 
battlemented  walls.  In  the  center  of  the  picture 
stands  the  priest  with   uplifted    eyes    and    hands 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  3  I 

raised   over  the  heads  of  the  bridal  pair.      Eva, 
with  the  sweetest  face  that  ever  graced  a  maiden 
of    seventeen     summers,    'modest,   innocent    and 
trusting-  as  one  who  has   never  known  aught  but 
affectionate  protection,  has  one  hand  raised  to  her 
breast,   half  holding  the  long  mande  of  cloth  of 
gold   whose  train  is   upheld  by  some    half-dozen 
maidens;   their    faces    all    contrast    strongly   with 
each  other,   and   each  tells   of  different  emotions 
excited   by  the  scene,   while  they  all,   as  well  as 
the  warriors  still  behind  them  holding  aloft  many 
colored  standards  floating  in  the  breeze,  have  their 
eyes  riveted  on  the  sweet  girlish  bride.     Clasping 
her    other    hand    stands     Strongbow,     his     face 
expressing  the  bravery  of  valor,   the  hopefulness 
of  youth,  his  helmet  adorned  with  a  laurel  wreath. 
Beside    the   priest    and    somewhat    behind    Eva, 
stands    Dermod,    her    father,   with    head    thrown 
back  and  eyes  widely  opened,  seeming  to  demand 
of  Strongbow  with   their  proud   and  piercing  ex- 
pression, "  Is  not  this  a  regal  reward  ?      Have   I 
not  royally  kept  my  royal   word?"      In  the  fore- 
ground and  at  either  side,  inclosing  the  whole,  are 
the  dead  and  dying  ;    some  writhing   in   the  last 
agony,  others   motionless  in   death.      Wives  who 
have  thrown    themselves    on  the  bodies  of  their 
husbands;   babes  forgotten  for  the  moment,   and 
among   other   figures    an   old    harper,   apparently 
just  drawing  his  last  breath,   while  the  strings  of 


32  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

his  harp,  from  which  his  hand  seems  to  be  falhng, 
are  nearly  all  broken. 

Almost  the  first  thing  noticed  by  the  stranger 
in  Dublin  are  the  beautiful  bridges,  seven  of  stone 
and  two  of  iron,  spanning  at  comparatively  short 
distances  the  river  Liffey,  on  both  sides  of  which 
the  city  is  built.  The  river,  beautiful  as  it  looks 
flowing  through  the  heart  of  the  city,  is,  however, 
becoming  as  perplexing  a  problem  to  the  munici- 
pality as  the  Thames  formerly  was  to  London  ; 
being  a  receptacle  for  the  drainage  of  the  city,  its 
impurities  tend  to  endanger  health  and  generate 
disease.  Sackville  street  is  one  of  the  principal 
thoroughfares  of  the  city,  and  makes  an  indelible 
picture  on  the  mind.  Through  its  center  runs 
the  Liffey,  with  its  bridges  like  triumphal  arches 
marking  the  progress  of  art  and  civilization.  On 
both  sides  of  the  river  the  street  spreads  out  wide, 
well  paved,  and  clean,  affording  a  splendid  view 
of  the  buildings,  of  which  some  of  the  public  ones 
are  of  almost  classical  beauty  ;  and  here,  as  if 
borrowing  a  hint  'from  nature,  does  the  tide  of 
traffic  and  commerce  daily  ebb  and  flow. 

In  this  street,  opposite  the  post-office,  itself 
an  ornament  to  the  city,  stands  the  ubiquitous 
monument  of  Nelson,  one  of  Dublin's  greatest 
ornaments.  It  is  a  Grecian  Doric  column, 
upwards  of  one  hundred  and  forty  feet  in  height, 
surmounted  by  a  statue  of  the  hero,  thirteen  feet 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  ^7, 

in  height  ;  a  flight  of  stairs  in  its  interior  leads  to 
a  platform  on  the  top,  surrounded  by  an  iron 
railing  for  the  safety  of  such  as  undergo  the 
labor  of  the  ascent  for  the  pleasure  of  the  exten- 
sive view  from  its  summit.  On  the  four  panels 
of  the  pedestal  are  inscribed  the  names  and  dates 
of  Lord  Nelson's  principal  victories,  and  over  that 
which  terminated  his  career  is  a  sarcophagus. 

Highly  ornamental  as  it  is  to  the  city,  an  ex- 
pression of  good  taste,  as  well  as  of  the  generosity 
of  its  citizens,  I  hardly  derived  so  much  pleasure 
from  it  as  from  a  comparatively  insignificant  and 
homelv  one  in  Montreal,  to  the  same  o-reat 
commander.  This  last  one  bore  an  inscription 
couched  in  the  simplest  language,  and  I  was  deeply 
affected  as  I  read  the  words,  so  simple  that  little 
urchins  in  their  earliest  school  years  could  read  and 
understand,  and  thus,  perhaps,  drink  in  their  first 
lesson  in  patriotism  and  bravery.  And  should 
not  this  be  the  great  aim  of  national  monuments, 
to  inspire  the  youth  of  the  land?  And  are  not 
such  plain  words  as  they  can  comprehend  better 
calculated  to  render  the  great  immortal,  to  make 
their  actions  not  only  live,  but  live  again  in  the 
future,  than  the  more  elaborate  style  of  the  nation's 
tongue  or  the  scholarly  record  in  a  de,ad  language? 
This  latter  monument  presented  on  two  siilcH  the 
stories  of  victories  without  the  loss  of  a  single 
British  ship  ;   the  third  gave  the  story  of  his  death; 


34  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

the  fourth  expressed  the  love  and  admiration  of 
the  people  who  had  erected  this  monument  to  his 
memory. 

Dublin  University  forms  the  boundary  on  one 
side  of  College  Green,  and  is  a  splendid  piece  of 
architecture  ;  inside,  its  walls  are  adorned  with 
full-length  portraits  of  eminent  men  who  have 
been  educated  here  ;  and  in  its  library,  at  each 
pillar,  is  placed  a  bust  of  some  distinguished 
person  ;  outside  in  a  little  space  inclosed  with  an 
iron  railing  and  facing  the  street,  are  two  statues, 
one  of  Burke,  the  other  of  Goldsmith.  The 
latter  stands  with  pencil  in  the  right  hand  which 
hangs  at  his  side,  while  his  eyes  rest  on  an  open 
book  held  in  his  left.  The  face  bears  an  ex- 
pression exactly  corresponding  to  one's  idea  of 
his  character — so  simple  and  so  kindly.  Poor 
Goldsmith  !  Little  did  he  think,  when  a  "  poor 
scholar"  of  the  college,  distinguished  by  the  cap 
of  poverty  and  obliged  to  do  menial  duty,  that  he 
was  ever  to  stand  in  glory  by  the  side  of  his  more 
aristocratic  fellow-student,  Burke  ;  little  did  he 
think  that  the  collecre  from  which  he  once  ran 
away,  smarting  from  the  sting  of  unjust  disgrace, 
was  one  day  to  feel  itself  honored  by  the  presence 
of  his  statue  placed  before  its  doors,  as  if  to 
beckon  genius  in  future  times  to  enter  and  drink 
from  th(t  fount  that  had  nurtured  an  Oliver 
("loldsmiih  ! 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  35 

The  Old  Parliament  House  is  now  occupied  by 
the  Bank  of  Ireland,  It  is  situated  in  College 
Green,  its  principal  front  consisting  of  a  colonnade 
surrounding  three  sides  of  a  spacious  court.  The 
columns  rest  on  a  broad  platform,  approached  by 
steps  ;  a  pediment  supported  by  these  columns  is 
adorned  by  three  statues — Hibernia,  Fidelity 
and  Commerce — placed  here  since  the  building 
came  into  the  possession  of  the  Bank  of  Ireland. 
The  interior  of  the  building  has  been  so  altered 
as  to  adapt  it  to  its  present  use.  In  one  depart- 
ment we  saw  a  wonderful  little  automatical 
machine  for  wei^hinQr  o-old.  A  handful  or  two 
of  gold  pieces  being  thrown  in,  it  picks  up  one 
at  a  time,  brings  it  forward,  and,  hesitating  a 
moment,  deflects  it  into  one  of  two  receptacles, 
according  to  whether  or  not  it  responds  to  the 
legal  standard  weight;  if  below,  an  index  hand 
on  a  small  dial  indicates,  at  the  instant  of  its 
rejection,  the  exact  degree  of  deficiency.  All 
such  coins  are  sent  to  the  Bank  of  England  for 
re-coinafje. 

The  former  House  of  Commons  is  now  the 
Cash  Office.  The  chamber  of  the  House  of  Lords 
is  preserved  in  its  former  state,  with  the  exception 
of  the  addition  of  a  marble  statue  of  George  III., 
placed  here  by  the  Bank  Directors.  This  stands 
in  front  of  a  railing  separating  from  the  rest  of  the 
room  the  semi-circular  space  formerly  occupied  by 


36  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

the  throne.  In  the  niches  on  either  side  of  the 
room  are  busts  ;  one  of  George  IV.,  the  other  of 
Nelson,  with  the  never-omitted  armless  sleeve; 
the  lost  eye,  however,  seems  to  elude  the  sculptor's 
skill.  On  opposite  sides  of  the  room  are  two 
large  pieces  of  tapestry  faded  by  time  ;  one 
representing  the  battle  of  the  Boyne,  the  other 
the  siege  of  Derby.  The  long  table  and  chairs 
formerly  used  by  members  of  this  House,  are 
also  preserved  here. 

As  we  stood  on  this  spot,  how  we  wished  that 
our  ears  might  catch  one  echo  of  the  eloquence 
with  which  Irish  patriots  have  sought  to  save 
their  country  in  the  political  convulsions  of  past 
years  ;  of  words  which  will  never  lose  their 
thrilling  power  so  long  as  the  human  heart 
cherishes  a  love  of  country — a  love  of  liberty. 
Here  did  Grattan,  in  the  year  1782,  on  that  day 
whose  sun  rose  on  a  nation  standing:  in  silent  and 
threatening  despair,  whose  sun  went  down  on  the 
same  nation  reflecting  from  its  face  the  light  of 
content  and  dignified  joy,  exclaim,  "  Ireland  is 
now  a  nation  ;  in  that  character  I  hail  her,  and 
bowing  to  her  august  presence  I  say,  esto  per- 
petual "  And  here,  less  than  a  score  of  years 
later,  when,  deprived  of  her  Parliament,  he  saw 
the  threatened  death  of  the  nation  whose  birth  he 
had  hailed,  did  he  utter  those  final  words  of  adieu, 
in    which    he    pledged    unswerving    faith    to    the 


LETTERS  OF  TRAVEL.  2)7 

country  which  lay  shrouded  before  him,  swooning, 
but  not  dead. 

Again,  another  picture  arises  of  a  most  dramatic 
scene  once  enacted  here,  the  trial  of  a  member  of 
this  House  for  murder.  In  the  gallery  of  the  hall 
selected,  a  crowd  of  some  seven  hundred  persons 
represent  the  world  of  fashion.  One  part  of  the 
floor  is  covered  with  scarlet  cloth  and  appropriated 
to  the  Peeresses  and  their  dauijhters  ;  these  seats 
filled,  the  Peers,  wearing  their  full  robes  of  state, 
enter  in  solemn  silence  ;  now  comes  the  bearer  of 
the  armorial  shield  of  the  accused  ;  behind  him 
follows  the  prisoner  in  deep  mourning,  with 
melancholy  air,  and  eyes  fastened  to  the  ground; 
next,  the  executioner,  bearing  a  large  hatchet 
painted  black  with  the  exception  of  its  brightly 
polished  edge  ;  the  three  place  themselves  at  the 
bar;  over  the  prisoner's  left  shoulder  hangs  his 
armorial  shield  ;  on  his  right,  the  executioner 
holds  the  axe  to  his  neck  with  the  edge  averted, 
ready,  should  judgment  be  unfavorable,  immedi- 
ately to  turn  its  shining  edge,  at  once  announcing 
sentence  and  fate.  The  trial  begins  ;  the  wit- 
nesses are  called,  first  generally,  and  then  by  name  ; 
no  one  appears  ;  according  to  law,  the  Chancellor 
proceeds  to  put  the  question  ;  each  Peer  rises, 
passes  slowly  before  the  chair  in  which  the  Chan- 
cellor is  seated,  solemnly  places  his  hand  upon  his 
heart,  and  repeats,  "  not  guilty,  upon  my  honor." 


429760 


38  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

Finally  the  Chancellor  arises  and  declares  it  to 
be  the  opinion  of  the  Peers  of  Ireland  that  the 
accused  is  "  not  guilty."  He  then  breaks  his 
wand,  descends  from  his  chair,  and  the  trial  is 
ended. 

Dublin,  Atigust,  1874. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  39 


III. 
ROUND    TOWERS— PORTRUSH— GIANT'S     CAUSEWAY. 

lE  turn  our  backs  on  Dublin  and  our 
faces  towards  "Dalrladi's  Coast,"  pass- 
ing on  our  way  within  sight  of  Lough 
Neah,  Ireland's  largest  lake.  It  is  twenty  miles 
long  and  half  as  wide,  and  its  waters  are  said  to 
possess  the  power  of  petrifying  wood,  and  also  of 
healing,  in  a  few  days,  ulcers  and  sores  upon  the 
body.  Among  the  poetic  sights  dwelling  in  my 
imao;ination  had  been  far-reachinq-  fields  of  flax, 
bending  with  graceful  stalk  to  the  breeze,  and 
lifting  delicate  petals  to  the  sky  to  drink  in  a  kin- 
dred  azure;  but  of  all  the  unpoetical  smells  dwelling 
in  my  memory,  is  that  of  such  fields  filling  the  air 
as  we  traveled  through  them  mile  after  mile,  with 
a  stench  wholly  indescribable;  as  usual,  however, 
with  intolerable  odors,  the  inhabitants  console 
themselves  with  the  idea  that  the  tainted  air  is 
salubrious.  It  was  the  season  for  pulling  the 
ripened  flax,  and  this  was  mostly  done  by  women 
and  children. 

Aeain  we  see  some  of  the  Round  Towers  of 
Ireland,  a  feature  peculiar  to  this  country.     Thai 


40  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

of  Antrim,  which  we  now  pass,  is  eighty  feet  high  ; 
about  eighteen  feet  from  the  top  it  tapers  hke  a 
sugar-loaf;  the  circumference  at  its  base  is  fifty-two 
feet,  and  apparently  about  thirty-six  feet  where 
it  begins  to  taper.  Some  dozen  feet  from  the 
ground  is  a  door  facing  the  north,  with  no  steps 
leading  to  it,  nor  any  appearance  of  there  ever 
having  been  any.  There  are  loopholes  above. 
The  walls  are  three  feet  thick,  and  the  door  and 
loopholes  are  arched  with  hewn  stone.  Sometimes 
these  towers  are  found  divided  into  two  or  three 
stories  by  horizontal  partitions,  perforated  by  an 
aperture  scarcely  large  enough  to  admit  of  the 
passage  of  a  man's  body,  but  there  are  no  apparent 
means  of  ascending  from  one  opening  to  the 
other. 

The  history  of  these  towers  is  wholly  unknown. 
Some  suppose  them  to  have  been  erected  as 
belfrys;  others,  but  with  no  reason  therefor,  look 
upon  them  as  monuments  of  ascetic  superstition 
like  that  of  Simon  Stylite's;  others  imagine  them 
depositories  of  sacred  fire.  Their  Eastern  origin 
has  been  suggested  by  the  discovery  of  two 
round  towers  in  Bhangulpore,  resembling  those 
of  Ireland,  and  of  which — a  striking  coincidence — 
the  Hindoos  possess  no  tradition,  although  the 
Rajahs  look  upon  them  as  holy.  Notwithstanding 
that  popular  belief  leans  to  the  religious  origin, 
sacred  use,  and  extreme  antiquity  of  these  towers. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  41 

it  seems  more  reasonable  to  attribute  to  them  no 
earlier  date  than  the  ninth  century,  at  which  time 
the  Irish  began  to  erect  structures  of  lime  and 
stone.  Perhaps  they  were  built  by  the  Danes  as 
watch-towers  for  observino-  the  movements  of  the 
natives,  who  afterwards  expelled  the  Danes,  and 
who  may  then  have  used  them  for  some  purpose 
of  their  own. 

Portrush  is  our  stopping-place  for  the  night, 
but  let  me  advise  all  travelers,  in  spite  of  impor- 
tunity and  the  late  hour  of  arrival,  to  push  on 
directly  some  seven  miles  from  here,  where  there 
is  a  commodious,  sunny  hotel,  which  is,  moreover, 
within  five  minutes'  walk  of  the  great  scene  of 
attraction.  Portrush  is  one  of  the  dreariest  places 
on  earth;  there  the  zenith  has  visibly  descended, 
the  circle  of  the  horizon  contracted,  and  one  feels 
as  if  he  had  reached  the  little  end  of  creation. 
Built  on  a  peninsula,  jutting  out  a  mile  into  the 
ocean  towards  the  Skerries,  it  is  cold  and  bleak, 
the  hotels  are  destitute  of  warmth  and  cheerful- 
ness, and  one  shudders  at  the  bathing-houses, 
and  wonders  that  in  such  a  cold,  wet  place  they 
do  not  erect  drying-houses  in  their  stead.  There 
is  a  good  beach  here  and  a  range  of  limestone 
cliffs;  also  sand-hills  evidently  of  recent  origin. 
Some  fifty  years  ago  a  violent  storm  swept  away 
some  of  the  sand,  and  brought  to  view  the 
remains  of  an  ancient  town — the  ruins  of  houses, 

3 


42  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

in    which    were   found    domestic    utensils,    spear- 
heads, etc. 

We  have  now  reached  the  most  northerly  point 
of  Ireland,  and  that  must  be  a  phlegmatic  tempera- 
ment indeed  whose  pulses  do  not  quicken  at 
approaching  the  Giants'  Causeway,  another 
wonderful  outburst  of  Nature's  power,  another 
exclamation  point  in  Nature's  book,  another  of 
those  scenes  which  but  excite  the  inexhaustible 
thirst  of  man,  "growing  with  what  it  feeds  upon," 
to  find,  somewhere  in  the  universe,  the  measure  of 
his  own  soul;  prompted  by  the  vast  to  long  for 
the  greater;  humbled,  yet  exalted  by  the  lofty  to 
what  is  higher  ;  softened  by  the  beautiful,  to  be 
more  readily  impressed  by  what  is  still  lovelier; 
searching  in  the  fountains  of  deep  waters  for  some 
source  that  shall  find  its  level  with  the  deep, 
mysterious  impulse  of  his  own  being  that  throbs 
in  sympathy  with  the  lowest  forms  of  life;  scan- 
ninof  the  atoms  of  inanimate  matter,  and  roaminof 
to  the  farthest  bounds  of  the  starry  heavens,  while 
yet  he  finds  not  the  limits  of  his  own  thought. 
So  we  approach  to  where 

"  Dark  o'er  the  foam-white  waves, 
The  Giant's  pier  the  war  of  tein[)ests  braves, 
A  far-projecting,  firm,  basaltic  way 
Of  chistering  cokimns  wedged  in  dense  array  ; 
With  sl<ill  so  Hke,  yet  so  surpassing  Art, 
With  such  design,  so  just  in  every  part, 
Tiiat  reason  pauses — doubtful  if  it  stand 
The  work  of  mortal  or  immortal   hand." 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  43 

This  great  masterpiece  of  Nature  can  only  be 
properly  viewed  from  the  ocean,  and  we  therefore 
embark  in  a  boat,  which  first  takes  us  into  the  cave 
of  Port  Coon  but  a  little  distance  from  the  shore. 
It  seems  perilous  to  attempt  to  effect  an  entrance 
among  the  dashing  waves,  whose  white  foam  rises 
high  on  either  side  of  the  cave;  but  once  in,  we 
are  overcome  by  a  feeling  of  a  we  and  helplessness 
as  we  listen  to  the  roar  of  the  waves  reverberating 
under  its  symmetrical  roof,  which  narrows  and 
descends  to  an  outlet  much  smaller  than  the  one 
by  which  we  have  entered.  We  do  not  at  all 
envy  the  Prince  Imperial,  for  whom  the  cave  was 
recently  lighted  by  a  display  of  fire-works. 
Nature,  robed  in  her  own  solemnity,  speaks  to  us 
in  so  grand  a  tone  that  we  feel  such  interposition 
of  Art  would  but  throw  upon  the  whole  a  touch 
of  frivolitv. 

Emerging  from  the  cave,  we  proceed  about 
three  miles  along  an  undulating  coast,  rising  in 
some  places  to  the  height  of  nearly  400  feet.  The 
coast  line  presents  a  grand  range  of  promontories 
indented  by  a  series  of  beautiful  semi-circular 
bays  walled  in  by  abruptly  rising  sides.  One  of 
these,  Spanish  Bay,  was  the  scene  of  the  wreck  of 
some  vessels  of  the  Spanish  Armada;  intending  to 
attack  Dunluce  Castle,  whose  extensive  ruins  are 
seen  on  an  isolated  promontory  connected  to  the 
mainland  by  a  natural  bridge  of  rock,  in  the  dark- 


44  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

ness  they  mistook  another  point  for  it  and  were 
dashed  to  pieces.  We  were  told  that  an  organ 
on  board  one  of  the  ships  has  since  been 
recovered,  and  is  to  be  seen  in   Dublin, 

The  Giants'  Causeway  consists  of  three  natural 
piers  extending  in  a  northerly  direction  into  the 
ocean  ;  between  the  piers  are  rounded  masses  of 
irregularly  prismatic  basalt.  Rowing  along  at 
such  a  distance  from  the  coast  as  to  afford  a  fine 
view,  we  first  notice  the  Giants'  Loom,  a  colonnade 
thirty-six  feet  high  ;  next  we  come  in  sight  of  the 
Giants'  Organ,  about  120  feet  in  length  and  com- 
posed of  sixty  columns,  the  center  ones  forty  feet 
in  height,  diminishing  at  either  end  ;  the  Organ 
is  situated  midway  up  the  nearly  perpendicular 
background  of  a  semi-circular  bay,  and  bears  a 
striking  resemblance  to  the  instrument  whose 
name  has  been  given  to  it.  The  Chimney-tops 
make  the  eastern  boundarv  of  the  most  strikino- 
part  of  this  coast  ;  they  are  composed  of  four 
massive  basaltic  columns  315  feet  in  height ;  they 
are  hexagonal  in  form  and  isolated  in  position. 
Near  this  is  the  Theatre,  an  amphitheatre  of  three 
distinct  colonnades. 

Having  gone  so  far  as  to  gain  a  view  of  the 
Chimneys,  we  turn  the  prow  of  the  boat  and 
retrace  our  way  to  the  main  Causeway.  The  sea, 
meanwhile,  has  become  rougher  ;  we  look  up  at 
high   waves  far  above  our  heads,   threatening  to 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  45 

overwhelm  us;  the  skill  of  the  boatmen  commands 
our  admiration.  Two  of  them  hurriedly  jump  to 
the  landing  and  we  are  rowed  hastily  backward 
toward  the  cove  behind  us.  The  trained  eyes  of 
the  men  enable  them  to  calculate  at  what  point 
the  wave  will  break,  and  they  hold  the  boat  just 
beyond  its  power.  Observing  the  waves  in  the 
distance  they  watch  for  a  greater  space  between 
any  two,  and  avail  themselves  of  the  opportunity 
to  row  again  towards  the  landing-point,  in  time 
for  one  person  to  jump  hurriedly  on  shore  and 
run  up  the  causeway,  chased  by  the  breaking 
wave,  while  the  boat  again  withdraws  to  land 
another  at  the  next  favorable  interval.  Half  over- 
come by  mingled  laughter,  fear  and  sea-sickness, 
at  last  we  are  all  safely  deposited  on  the  lower 
extremity  of  the  principal  causeway;  this  is  about 
300  feet  in  length,  making  as  it  slopes  upward 
from  the  ocean  to  the  base  of  the  cliff,  a  gradual 
ascent  oi  200  feet,  and  being  much  wider  at  its 
top  than  where  it  emerges  into  the  ocean. 

The  whole  rock  formation  of  Causeways, 
Organs,  Chimneys,  etc.,  is  the  same,  being  com- 
posed entirely  of  columns  of  stone,  fitted  so 
accurately  to  each  other  that  the  point  of  a  knife 
cannot  be  introduced  between  them — a  solid 
structure  of  pillar  united  to  pillar  as  close  as  the 
cells  of  a  honev-comb.  Some  writer  has  stated 
the  number  of  distinct  and  perfect  columns  to  be 


46  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

37,426,  not  including  those  that  are  broken  or 
scattered.  The  color  of  the  stone  is  a  dark  iron- 
gray  ;  it  is  extremely  compact  and  fine  in  texture. 
At  a  short  distance  each  pier  presents  the  appear- 
ance of  a  regular  pavement,  the  columns  rising 
each  but  a  few  inches  above  the  adjoining  ones 
directly  below  it.  The  columns  are  composed  of 
articulated  joints,  the  lower  convex  end  of  each 
fitting  into  the  concave  end  of  the  one  below  it, 
thus  forming  a  ball  and  socket  joint  ;  occasionally 
the  convexity  is  reversed.  The  joints  vary  from 
six  to  twelve  inches  in  lens^th,  and  from  twelve  to 
twenty  in  breadth.  Every  one  of  these  columns 
is  a  geometrical  prism,  and  we  find  every  form 
from  a  triangle  to  a  nonagon  ;  as  yet,  however, 
but  one  triangle  has  been  observed,  and  the  pre- 
vailing forms  are  five,  six,  or  seven-sided  figures. 
It  is  only  within  the  last  hundred  years  that 
scientific  investiration  has  been  turned  to  this 
natural  phenomenon,  and,  incredible  as  it  may 
seem,  it  is  nevertheless  true  that  in  the  eighteenth 
century  respectable  authors  confess  themselves  in 
doubt  whether  it  was  laid  by  Him  who  upholds 
the  pillars  of  the  universe  or  was  wrought  by  the 
hand  of  man.  Since  science  has  been  becoming 
popular,  the  common  tongue  is  fast  forgetting  to 
lisp  the  old  poetic  superstitions — mental  wild 
flowers — gracing  with  their  uncultivated  beauty 
the   rugged    wonders    of   Nature.      The    mind   is 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  47 

naturally  prompted  to  inquire  into  the  cause  of 
so  extraordinary  a  phenomenon,  and  in  the 
romantic  days  of  Fable  the  simple  inhabitants  of 
the  coast,  seeing  its  appearance  of  art  and  regu- 
larity and  unable  to  account  for  it  by  any  known 
operations  of  Nature,  ascribed  it  to  the  hands  of 
giants. 

Fin  MacCumhal,  the  great  hero  of  Irish 
romance,  and  whom  tradition  made  to  attain  the 
enormous  stature  of  fifteen  cubits,  became  the 
imaginary  architect.  Enraged  at  the  predatory 
invasions  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  Hebrides  and 
of  the  northern  tribes  who  had  often  made  the 
soil  of  Erin  red  with  the  blood  of  her  children,  he 
at  last  resolved  to  punish  the  invaders,  and  to 
that  end  to 

"  Bridge  the  ocean  for  the  march  of  war." 

Summoning  his  army  of  giants  they  set  to  work 
to  construct  a  fabric  which  should  span  the 
horizon  and  override  the  thunder  and  the  storm. 
They  then  hewed  these  columns  from  quarries  on 
the  shore,  |:)olished  them,  and  built  of  them  an 
enormous  arch,  reaching  from  Dalriadi's  coast  to 
the  Isle  of  Staffa,  on  Albion's  shore. 

"  Deep  in  the  surge  the  broad,  dense  base  they  spread, 
And  raised  to  heaven  the  massy  cohimn's  head; 
High  rose  the  rock-wove  arch,  and  o'er  the  flood, 
Like  Neptune's  fane,  the  pilLared  structure  stood." 

The  Scandinavians,  terrified  at  this  threatening 
sight,  called  upon  Odin,  their  god,  for  hel]).      The 


48  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

gods  had  built  for  their  own  use  a  bridge  between 
heaven  and  earth — the  rainbow.  Lest  the  giants 
should  ascend  by  it  into  heaven  it  was  kept 
constantly  guarded  by  a  porter,  Heimdal,  born 
of  nine  mothers,  whom  the  gods  had  endowed 
with  special  qualities  for  his  office.  It  was  im- 
possible to  surprise  him,  for  he  slept  more  lightly 
than  a  bird,  could  discover  by  day  or  night  objects 
a  hundred  leagues  distant,  while  his  ear  was  so 
fine  that  he  could  hear  the  grass  grow  in  the 
meadow  and  the  wool  on  the  backs  of  the  sheep. 
Odin  listened  to  the  cries  of  his  worshipers,  and 
holding  the  hissing  thunder  in  his  hand,  descended 
and  stood  on  the  arch  of  the  rainbow,  calling  upon 
his  ministers  of  wrath.  Among  the  latter  was 
Loke.  the  Genius  of  Evil.  He  had  been  over- 
come in  a  conflict  with  the  gods  and  by  them  shut 
up  in  an  underground  cavern  where  he  makes  his 
abode  tremble  with  his  violent  rage,  terrifying 
mortals  with  the  dreadful  earthquake.  Thus 
evoked,  Loke  and  Hela — the  Goddess  of  Death — 
set  the  elements  in  motion  and  shook  the  base  of 
this  stupendous  arch^  which  disappeared  in  the 
yawning  gulfs  of  ocean.  A  spell  of  enchantment 
was  then  cast  over  the  giants,  their  blood  chilled 
with  terror  and  their  nerves,  bones,  and  limbs, 
turned  into  stone.  At  midnight,  however,  their 
specters  flit  around  the  former  scene  of  their 
activity,    and    at    loom    and    organ    pursue    their 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  49 

former  curious  toils,  while  far  aloft  on  some  lone 
pillar  their  leader  sits  delighting  himself  in  the 
sight.  Two  abutments — the  one  the  Giants' 
Causeway,  the  other  the  caverned  shore  of  Staffa, 
known  to  us  as  Fingal's  Cave — were  left  standing 
as  proud  memorials  of  their  power,  and  foreshadow- 
ing the  skill  of  the  intellectual  giants  of  our  day, 
who  have 

Bridged  the  ocean  for  the  march  of  peace, 

the  foundations  of  whose  wired  arch,  sunk  far 
below  the  thunder  and  the  storm,  support  a  bridge 
like  the  many  threaded  rainbow,  upon  which 
mortals,  sending  to  and  fro  the  liohtninor  as  their 
messenger,  shall  yet  become  like  i:Tods  and  their 
ministers  be  angels  of  life  and  good. 

Ballycastle,  Ireland,  August,  1874. 


50  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


IV. 

GLASGOW— EDINBURGH— AYR. 

OLLECTING  our  thouglns  and  examining 
the  general  impression  Ireland  has  made 
upon  us,  we  find  the  picture  carried  away 
in  our  minds,  to  be  pervaded  with  an  atmosphere 
of  sadness  enwrapping  even  her  rarer  grandeurs, 
as  well  as  her  choice  spots  of  beauty  whose  mar- 
velous color  we  shall  never  forget,  and  from  our 
hearts  we  exclaim  as  we  leave  her,  "  Country  of 
sadness,  farewell!" 

The  curtain  of  night  falls  and  we  see  Ireland 
no  more.  By  morning's  dawning  light  we  look 
upon  the  "  banks  o'  Clyde,''  along  which  for 
miles  the  sound  of  busy  hammers  fills  the  air  like 
the  morning  song  of  birds — hammers  awakening 
the  music  of  that  great  instrument  of  harmony — 
commerce — whose  sounding-board  is  the  ocean, 
and  the  nations  of  the  earth  its  keys.  Suddenly 
transported  into  such  a  scene,  one's  spirit  expands 
with  a  feeling  of  pride  and  glory  in  the  enterprise 
of  man,  and  this  increases  the  longer  he  gazes 
upon  the  seemingly  endless  avenue  of  ocean  ships 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  51 

and  steamers  in  process  of  construction,  through 
which  he  approaches  Glasgow,  and  yet  more 
when  he  considers  that  these  monsters,  fore- 
ordained conquerors  of  the  elements  they  are  to 
contend  with,  will  bend  like  pliant  reeds  to  the 
guiding  hand  of  man. 

'T  is  in  contrast  with  Edinburgh,  perhaps,  that 
one  gets  the  most  distinct  picture  of  Glasgow. 
Glasgow  is  a  sort  of  "  hail-fellow,  well-met  "  city, 
and  her  liveliness  and  activity  impresses  one 
beyond  her  buildings,  public  parks,  squares  and 
monuments,  in  which  she  is  by  no  means  poor;  it 
is  the  life  of  the  place  that  makes  its  distinctive 
characteristic  in  one's  memory.  Edinburgh,  on 
the  contrary,  is  different  enough  from  Glasgow  to 
be  her  antipode  ;  cold,  proud  and  dignified,  it  is 
herself  and  not  her  spirit  that  is  impressed  upon 
your  mind  as  you  gaze  upon  her  ;  no  movement 
of  life  to  spoil  the  perfect  photograph  of  this  city 
of  stone,  this  Memnon  of  cities,  grand  and  calm, 
whose  morning  note  of  music  has  been  drowned 
to  the  common  ear  by  the  overwhelming  noise  of 
modern,  commercial  cities.  There  she  stands 
among  Memory's  pictures  just  as  I  saw  her  first 
and  always  ;  the  old  town  with  its  exceedingly 
tall  houses  crowded  together,  and  standing  on 
tip-toe  one  above  the  other  to  get  a  look  down 
into  the  new  town  with  its  lower  hills  and  wider 
streets.    How  tiresome  I  found  her  stony  features, 


52  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

unrelieved  by  shrubbery  except  in  the  squares, 
most  of  which  are  pubhc  only  to  private  individuals. 
The  pavement  of  the  streets,  the  sidewalks,  the 
houses,  their  outer  steps,  their  inner  stairways, 
their  halls — everywhere  and  all-pervading — the 
same  gray  stone  ;  I  can  imagine  a  sensitive  person 
becoming  crazy  from  this  eternal  monotone  of 
color. 

If  you  want  to  see  the  appropriateness  of  the 
Scotch  plaid  in  dress,  come  to  Scotland,  whose 
general  aspect  is  far  from  bright,  but  particularly 
to  Edinburgh,  where  the  many-colored  plaids  are 
certainly  here  the  most  beautiful  dress  material ; 
thus  teaching  that  for  effective  costume  we  may 
also  study  the  complexion  of  the  sky  as  well  as 
that  of  the  individual. 

Here  was  another  difference  in  the  two  cities  ; 
in  Glasgow  I  remember  nothing  of  how  the  people 
were  dressed,  nor  of  their  "shops,"  except  that 
the  latter  were  busy  enough;  while  the  exceptional 
brightness  of  Edinburgh's  windows  is  quite  dis- 
tinct. 

Again,  Glasgow  is  rich  ;  Edinburgh  is — well,  I 
will  not  say  poor,  because  she  is  noted  for  being 
to  a  large,  I  might  say  to  an  unfortunate  extent, 
the  residence  of  people  rich  enough  to  do  nothing 
but  enjoy  a  cultivated  leisure.  But  the  first  thing 
that  attracts  the  stranger's  attention  is  a  picturesque 
group  of  columns  standing  alone  on  one  of  her 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  53 

principal  summits,  looking  so  much  like  some 
ancient  ruin  that,  perhaps,  in  more  than  five  cases 
in  ten  it  is  the  subject  of  the  first  inquiry  made  by 
the  stranger,  to  which  inquiry  the  answer  has 
become  almost  proverbial.  "  Oh,  that  is  the  monu- 
ment of  Edinburgh's  poverty."  Begun  fifty  years 
ago,  and  intended  to  be  an  exact  model  of  the 
Parthenon  at  Athens,  all  her  money  was  spent  in 
erecting  the  three  steps  and  twelve  columns  you 
now  see,  and  the  city  has  been  unable  even  to 
raise  money  enough  to  complete  the  National 
Monument.  GlasQ^ow  has  offered  to  finish  it  if 
Edinburgh  will  yield  to  her  in  return  the  honor 
of  being  Scotland's  capital ;  but  if  the  one  city  is 
rich  enough  the  other  is  proud  enough,  and  will 
not  sell  her  birthright  or  barter  her  dignity. 

Sir  Walter  Scott's  monument  in  Edinburo-h  is 
most  perfect  ;  in  appropriateness  and  beauty  it  is 
complete,  and  one  feels  that  nothing  could  be 
added  or  taken  away  without  marring  it.  Of  dark 
brown  stone,  in  the  open  arch  of  its  base  sits  a 
marble  statue  of  Scott  with  his  do^-  beside  him. 
The  tower  is  two  hundred  feet  high,  while  between 
base  and  summit  its  elaborate  carvinfj  is  inter- 
spersed  with  niches  occupied  by  white  marble 
figures  of  the  author's  principal  characters. 

From  the  open  ornamental  grounds  around  this 
monument,  one  has  a  fine  view  of  the  old  town 
and   castle   of   Calton    Hill,    of    the   buildings   of 


54  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

the  Royal  Institution,  etc.,  and  as,  thoroughly 
impatient  at  the  monotony  of  the  city,  I  sat 
reading  one  of  his  books  at  the  Wizard's  feet, 
I  fairly  loved  him  for  his  sympathy  as  I  came 
across  this  sentence:  "Edinburgh,  which  is  a 
tolerable  residence  in  Winter  and  Spring,  be- 
comes disagreeable  in  Summer,  and  in  Autumn 
is  the  most  miserable  sejour  that  ever  poor 
mortals  were  condemned  to.  No  public  places 
are  open,  no  inhabitant  of  any  consideration 
remains  in  the  town;  those  who  cannot  get 
away  hide  themselves  in  obscure  corners  as  if 
ashamed  to  be  seen  in   the  streets." 

The  round  trip  from  Glasgow  to  Ayr  is  the 
journey  of  a  day,  and  although  a  visit  to  the  birth- 
place of  Burns  is  a  threadbare  subject  to  write  or 
read  about,  one  makes  it  with  as  fresh  an  interest 
as  if  he  had  not  read  a  thousand  descriptions  of 
it.      The  railroad  brings  us  to 

"Auld  Ayr,  wham  ne'er  a  town  surpasses 
In  honest  lads  and  bonnie  lasses," — 

and  in  quiet  and  extreme  neatness.  Strolling 
through  its  streets,  it  was  quite  by  accident  we 
came  upon  the  Tarn  O'.Shanter  House,  which  drew 
us  across  the  street  by  its  pictured  sign,  repre- 
senting Tam  mounted  on  his  gray  mare,  and 
drinking  his  stirrup-cup  previous  to  setting  out 
on  that  eventful  ride.  This  house  is  said  to  have 
been  the  principal  resort  of  Burns,  in  Ayr.      Now 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  55 

as  then,  a  public  house,  we  enter  and  examine  its 
dingy  little  rooms  with  table  in  the  center,  settees 
around,  and  all  the  walls  hung  with  cheap 
engravings  of  Burns.  A  dark,  narrow  stairway 
leads  up  to  a  room  somewhat  larger  than  the 
others,  called  the  "  Burns  room  ;"  here  are  framed 
manuscripts,  some  better  pictures  and  a  bust,  and 
we  are  told,  what  we  have  as  much  reason  to 
believe  as  to  doubt — for  such  a  haunt  he  surely 
had  in  Ayr- — ^that  it  was  by  that  very  ingle  Burns 
used  to  sit  with  his  companions,  in  the  very  chairs 
before  us,  two  of  which  bear  inscriptions  in  brass 
plates  to  that  effect.  The  party  occupying  the 
room  as  we  enter,  immediately  welcome  us  like 
old  friends,  for  the  name  of  Burns  is  the  open 
sesame  to  ev^ery  Scotchman's  heart ;  they  will 
accept  no  refusal ;  we  must  each  take  a  draught 
of  Scotch  ale  from  the  Burns  Cup,  a  wooden  cup 
— preserved  with  silver  bands  so  worn  as  to  have 
been  twice  renewed — that  has  been  handed  down 
from  his  time.  Inspired  with  the  spot,  the  name, 
the  associations  and  the  surroundings,  it  is  with 
fervid  feeling,  and  tears  in  one  pair  of  eyes  at 
least,  that  the  circle  stand  around  the  table,  and 
drink  to  the  memory  of  Robert  Burns. 

Alloway  is  three  miles  beyond  Ayr  ;  there 
stands  the  cottage  birth-place  of  the  poet,  near 
which  is  Kirk  Alloway,  a  little  ruin  insignificant  in 
itself,    whose    belfry    alone    bespeaks    its    former 


56  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

churchhood.     Our    driver    voluntarily   points  out 
the  windowsill — 

"  The  winnock  bunker  in  the  east, 
Where  sat  auld  Nick  in  shape  of  beast." 

A  little  beyond  we  come  to  the  Burns  Monu- 
ment. Its  triangular  base  is  surmounted  by  a 
dome  supported  by  Corinthian  columns,  and 
crowned  by  a  lyre  and  wine-cup.  An  apartment 
within  contains  mementos  of  the  poet,  and  among 
his  books  is  the  Bible  given  to  his  Highland 
Mary  when,  as  the  story  goes,  the  lovers  stood  on 
opposite  sides  of  a  brook,  dipped  their  hands  in 
its  running  water  and,  holding  a  Bible  between 
them,  there  vowed  eternal  fidelity  to  each  other. 
They  never  met  again.  On  the  blank  leaf  of  this 
Bible  is  written,  "  Thou  shalt  not  forswear  thyself, 
but  shalt  perform  unto  the  Lord  thine  oaths." 

Near  by  is  an  edifice  erected  for  the  group  of 
statuary— Tam  O'Shanter  and  Souter  Johnny. 
The  figures  are  in  stone,  life-size  or  larger,  and 
there  is  a  very  fitting  harmony  in  this  most  appro- 
priate monument  to  the  Poet  of  the  people,  being 
the  original  design  and  work  of  an  obscure 
Ayrshire  stone-mason.  With  faces  turned  toward 
each  other  there  sit,  "drinking  divinely,"  the  two 
"ancient,  trusty,  drouthy  cronies."  The  chisel 
has  been  very  faithful  to  the  minutiae  of  their  dress, 
and  you  can  distinguish  the  stitches  in  the  long- 
seamed    stockings    of  the    one    who,    with    glass 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  57 

half-raised  to  his  wide-open  mouth,  is  evidently 
laug^hing  heartily  ;  the  other  has  rested  his  tankard 
upon  his  knee,  and  is  looking  at  the  former  with 
a  smile  as  if  he  really  "lo'ed  him  like  a  vera 
brither."  It  is  a  perfect  picture  of  jolly  pleasure, 
at  which  "Care,  mad  to  see  men  sae  happy,"  might 
well  indeed  drown  himself 

We  pass  out  from  here,  and  stand  on  the  "  Brig 
o'  Doon,"  and  a  very  tender  feeling  creeps  over 
us  as  we  silently  gaze  at  the  "bonnie  Doon,"  "its 
banks  and  braes  and  flowering  thorn,"  and  drink 
in  the  simple  beauty  of  the  scene,  bathed  by  the 
poet's  song  in  double  loveliness;  and  then  our  eyes 
stray  to  the  neighboring  open  fields,  and  imagina- 
tion conjures  up  the  scene  of  the  Burns'  festival, 
when  eighty  thousand  voices  joined,  and  filled  the 
air  around  with  such  songs  as  "Ye  Banks  and 
Braes"  and  "Auld  Lang  Syne." 

Not  to  introduce  the  topic  of  Burns  with  his 
country-men,  your  traveling  companions  as  you 
journey  through  Scotland,  is  to  lose  one-half  the 
enjoyment  of  a  Scottish  tour,  and  the  enthusiasm, 
especially  of  the  comparatively  illiterate,  increases 
your  own  appreciation  of  him.  Proud  as  they  can 
be  of  Scott,  Burns  they  love  with  all  their  heart. 

Ayr,  Scotland,  Scptejnder,  1874. 


58  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


V. 

LONDON— ROYAL     INSTITUTE. 

SHALL  never  be  satisfied  with  my 
arrival  in  London.  I  had  known  for  years 
just  how  it  ought  to  be  done,  and  that  it 
could  be  done  in  no  other  way.  I  was  to  arrive 
in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  little  less  than  a  mob; 
between  car  and  carriage  to  be  repeatedly  separated 
from  my  companions.  I  was  to  guard  myself 
from  robbery;  the  sound  of  many  voices  was  to 
drown  my  own.  I  mentally  prepare  for  all  this  as 
we  almost  fly  through  the  air  from  Warwickshire 
to  London,  knowing  I  should  be  made  aware  of 
our  near  approach  by  the  seemingly  long  ride 
through  such  an  underground  tunnel  as  had  thus 
far  led  us  into  every  large  city  of  Scotland  and 
England.  We  have  reached  no  such  tunnel  when 
the  train  stops  in  a  large,  quiet  station;  the 
conductor  opens  the  door  of  our  railway  carriage 
for  us  to  alight,  but  I  tell  him  "we  are  going  on  to 
London."  "This  is  London,  and  the  train  goes 
no  further."  It  is  quiet  enough  for  a  suburban 
station ;  unaccosted  by  any  one,  we  seek  for  and 
find  a  store-room  for  our  baggage,  and  then  pass 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  59 

outside  of  the  depot,  and,  importuned  by  no 
cabman,  select  one  of  the  carriages  waiting  for 
"a  fare;"  no  hotel-runners,  no  hotel-coaches — for 
all  we  hear,  no  hotels  in  London;  no  crowding, 
no  robbinor   no  clamour  of  voices. 

The  city,  too,  disappoints  in  the  earliest  days  of 
our  acquaintance  with  it.  I  had  imagined  a 
turbulent  stream,  of  life,  threatening  to  carry  the 
stranger  quite  off  his  feet;  that  everywhere  were 
striking  contrasts  between  palace  and  dwelling  of 
poverty;  that  the  excitement  of  an  American  city 
was  to  be  multiplied  by  this  immense  population. 
On  the  contrary,  we  are  impressed  with  the  quiet 
order  and  the  comparative  uniformity  of  building; 
full  as  the  principal  streets  are,  no  one  seems 
excited,  but  instead,  intensity  of  life  here  finds 
expression  in  earnestness  of  air  and  countenance 
in  young  and  old. 

The  first  thinof  for  an  American  to  do  here 
is  to  acquire  the  language.  You  find  yourself 
wondering  what  the  waiter  is  saying;  three  times 
you  ask  the  shopman  what  he  is  saying;  and  then 
answer  at  random;  even  to  the  public  lecturer  you 
must  listen  more  closely  than  at  home.  You  soon 
acquire  a  tolerable  proficiency  in  your  grandmother 
tongue,  although  after  many  weeks  you  may 
hesitate  when  the  tradesman  asks  you  if  you  will 
"avanolun,"  before  guessing  that  he  means  "have 
a  whole  one." 


6o  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL, 

Next  in  importance  to  learning  the  language  is 
the  learning  to  live  without  breathing,  and  this  is 
the  more  difficult  task  of  the  two — especially  for 
the  traveler  from  our  own  bracing  atmosphere, 
and  who,  between  here  and  there  has  felt  but 
ocean  breath  and  mountain  breeze.  There  is  no 
air  in  London,  and  I  do  n't  know  what  name  ought 
to  be  given  to  the  vile  compound  that  takes  its 
place.  On  my  first  arrival,  waking  up  several 
nights  and  finding  myself  distressed  as  if  with 
asthma,  and  recognizing  the  source  of  this  distress 
to  be  in  the  atmosphere,  I  thought  it  prudent  to 
begin  to  make  calculations  in  regard  to  the  prob- 
able length  of  my  life,  and  to  this  end  began 
reading  the  dailv  list  of  deaths.  F'or  a  time  I  was 
extremely  puzzled  to  find  such  a  very  large 
proportion  of  them  raging  between  seventy  and 
ninety  years,  but  at  last  all  became  clear  to  me  ; 
these  people  had  died  years  and  years  before,  but 
nobody  had  found  it  out,  for  this  simple  reason, 
that,  there  being  no  air,  nobody  can  breathe  here, 
and  consequently  one  great  symptom  of  death — 
cessation  of  breath — is  wanting.  I  have  a  neigh- 
bor opposite  whoni  I  have  been  watching  for 
some  weeks,  and  who  I  know  must  have  been 
dead  for  a  long  w^hile  ;  once  or  twice  a  day  I  see 
her  bent  fifjure  as  she  looks  out  from  between  the 
dingy  red  curtains  of  the  dingy  windows  of  her 
dingy    house    into    the    dingy    atmosphere  ;     her 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  6 1 

inanimate  face  has  such  an  air  of  dingy  monotony, 
the  conceit  has  come  into  my  mind  that,  conscious 
of  her  demise,  as  yet  undiscovered  by  others,  she 
is  peering  from  her  window  to  hail  a  hearse  should 
one  chance  to  pass. 

Speaking  of  hearses  reminds  me  of  something 
in  London  which  looks  very  funny  to  me:  boys 
stealinof  a  ride  bv  "  hanoinq;  on  behind"  the 
carriages  of  a  funeral  procession ;  I  believe  I  have 
yet  to  see  them  hanging  on  behind  the  hearse. 
In  Drury  Lane,  for  the  most  part  the  home  of 
poverty,  I  one  night  saw  a  hearse  before  a  house, 
in  attendance  on  an  evening  funeral!  What  could 
be  gloomier! 

To  the  new-comer  London  is  indeed  an  elephant 
on  his  hands;  it  is  a  closed  volumne  with  the  title 
''What  will  he  do  with  it  ?"  He  turns  to  its  table 
of  contents  and  soon  his  eye  falls,  with  a  feeling 
of  family  pride,  upon  that  long  list  of  names  of 
those  who,  England's  crown  of  glory  beyond  any 
warriors  to  whom  she  ever  gave  birth,  stand  in 
the  front  ranks  of  the  army  that  wars  with 
ignorance  and  spread  a  halo  of  light  and  of  promise 
upon  the  whole  human  race.  At  first  we  think 
we  must  see  them  all  ;  but  we  soon  begin  to  think 
we  '11  see  whom  we  can  get  to  see,  for  it  seems 
that  great  men  are  not  like  pearls,  whose  luster, 
as  I  have  read,  depends  upon  exposure  to  the 
common  air   and    common    sunshine.      Spurgeon 


62  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

can  always  be  found  (when  he  has  n't  the  gout)  at 
his  Tabernacle  ;  Tennyson  hides  from  all  the 
world,  mysterious  as  his  wonderful  power  of  song; 
Huxley  and  Tyndall  it  is  very  difficult  to  get  a 
chance  to  hear  speak.  At  last  we  say,  we  '11  hope 
to  hear  them  by  attending  the  "  Lectures  to 
Workingmen,"  and  are  informed  that  no  one  but 
the  workingman  is  admitted.  As  the  difficulty 
increases  we  become  more  anxious  to  hear  these 
latter,  and  hear  them  soon,  Tyndall  who  is  to 
deliver  a  course  of  lectures  on  electricity  before 
the  Royal  Institute,  also  gives  the  opening  lecture 
of  the  Friday  evening  course,  open  only  to  mem- 
bers and  invited  guests  ;  by  happy  chance  we  fall 
among  the  latter  number. 

Althouofh  we  have  arrived  an  hour  before  the 
lecture,  and  a  few  minutes  before  the  doors  are 
opened,  the  halls  and  stairs  are  already  crowded. 
We  are  fortunate  enough  to  reach  a  front  seat  in 
the  gallery,  where  we  have  a  fine  view  of  the 
theatre.  (A  lecture-room  here  is  called  a  theatre, 
and  a  circus  is  the  end  of  an  omnibus  route).  We 
are  not  sufficiently  acquainted  to  recognize  many 
of  the  distinguished  men  in  the  audience  ;  but 
there  is  Professor  Gladstone,  with  one  of  the  most 
smiling  and  pleasant  faces  in  the  world  ;  he  has 
just  concluded  the  delivery  in  this  hall  of  a 
Christmas  course,  suited  to  juveniles,  on  the  Voltaic 
battery ;  he  evidently  succeeded  in  interesting  his 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  63 

youthful  audience  not  only  by  his  learning  but  by 
his  love  of  them.  There  is  Mr.  Spottiswoode,  a 
man  who  has  for  years  been  at  the  head  of  the 
largest  printing  establishment  in  London  ;  science 
is  the  amusement  of  his  leisure  hours,  which 
cannot  be  many,  yet  by  his  recreations  he  has 
arrived  at  the  hi^rhest  scientific  honors  which  his 
country  can  bestow  ;  he  is  an  F,  R.  S.  and  Sec- 
retary of  the  Royal  Society  of  Great  Britain. 
Yonder  is  Sir  John  Lubbock,  a  naturalist  and  an 
M.  P.,  of  whom  a  newspaper  opposed  to  him  in 
politics,  in  noticing  a  recent  lecture  of  his  on 
"  Wild  Flowers  and  Insects,"  thought  it  very  well 
for  him  to  go  "  where  the  wild  thyme  grows." 
Just  behind  the  President's  chair  is  Sir  Thomas 
Watson,  a  man  whose  baronetcy  was  conferred 
upon  him  as  an  honorable  recognition  of  his  con- 
quests in  the  field  of  medical  science.  Among 
the  standing  crowd  is  Liebreich,  a  German  oculist 
of  some  renown  here,  with  so  singular  a  face  that 
at  first  sight  it  almost  startles  you  ;  I  do  n't  know 
how  Heinrich  Heine  looked,  but  he  ought  to  have 
looked  like  this  man  ;  small,  with  long  black  hair 
partly  concealing  a  face  of  deathly  pallor  in 
repose,  which,  weird  and  unnatural,  you  hardly 
know  whether  to  recognize  as  a  picture  of  dissipa- 
tion or  of  genius;  as  he  converses  for  a  moment 
his  face  lights  up  with  a  tinge  of  yellowish  color. 
We  turn  our  attention  to  the  ladies  ;  it  is  a  very 


64  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

fashionable  audience  and  a  full-dress  affair.  There 
are  white  tarlatans  and  blue,  white  silks  and  light 
silks  of  every  color,  velvets  and  satins,  and  the 
beautiful  heads  of  hair,  and  calm,  undisturbed 
expression  characteristic  of  English  women.  None 
of  them  are  known  to  me,  but  I  recognize  in  their 
midst  an  unlucky  friend  of  mine  who,  with  her 
usual  happy  way  of  hitting  the  right  thing,  has 
made  her  appearance  in  a  rainy-day  street  suit 

We  have  finished  our  survey  of  the  audience  ; 
the  clock  points  to  the  hour  of  nine,  and  we  turn 
all  our  attention  to  the  door  through  which 
Professor  Tyndall  is  to  enter.  Our  first  glance 
at  him  instantaneously  awakens  the  thought,  that 
for  such  a  wiry  form,  climbing  the  Alps  must  be 
a  comparatively  easy  matter ;  rather  tall,  his 
height  is  increased  by  the  slightness  of  his  figure  ; 
of  light  complexion  and  somewhat  gray,  to  me 
his  face  does  not  bespeak  the  student  ;  at  least, 
not  the  student  of  books — the  recluse  of  the 
library;  its  quick  and  animated  expression  indicates 
rather,  one  whose  perceptive  powers  are  keenly 
alive,  ever  on  the  qui  vive,  so  that  his  quick 
intellect  would  grasp  many  a  truth  that  would 
longer  escape  greater  minds  unendowed  with 
equally  active  perceptions.  In  lecturing  he  is 
earnest,  speaking  rather  quickly  ;  apparently  it 
would  be  impossible  for  him  to  do  anything  slowly  ; 
he  is  evidently  anxious,  very  anxious,  to  carry  his 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  65 

audience  undersiandingly  along  with  him,  and 
you  can  hardly  conceive  how  so  learned  a  man 
can  have  such  perfect  sympathy  with  the  disad- 
vantage under  which  a  comparatively  unscientific 
assembly  labors. 

His  subject  to-night  was  "Some  Acoustical 
Problems."  He  introduced  his  lecture  by  speak- 
ing of  the  importance  of  giving  lo  ideas,  which 
according  to  Locke,  are  mental  images,  a  physical 
basis  ;  and  that  by  such  means  uneducated 
audiences  can  receive  very  clear  ideas  of  subjects 
difficult  to  comprehend.  As  he  was  to  speak  on 
the  heterogeneous  composition  of  the  atmosphere 
around  us,  and  of  layers  or  strata  of  heated  air, 
he  would  give  a  physical  basis — a  representation 
to  the  sense  of  sight — of  the  phenomena  with 
which  his  discourse  was  to  deal.  By  means  of 
an  electric  light  throwing  upon  a  white  screen 
shadows  of  the  things  illustrated,  we  were  able  to 
see  the  carbonic  acid  gas,  which  he  poured  out 
from  a  glass  jar  ;  he  then  blew  sulphuric  ether 
through  a  tube,  and  we  saw  it  spreading  through 
the  atmosphere ;  we  also  saw  the  heated  air 
around  the  blaze  of  a  candle.  He  wished  to  show 
that  sound  is  reflected,  or  echoed,  by  being 
thrown  against,  or  into,  an  atmosphere  heteroge- 
neous in  composition,  or  containing  air-strata  of 
different  temperatures,  and  that  such  invisible 
components  of  the  atmosphere  and  such  walls  or 


66  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

Strata  had  more  power  to  interrupt  the  progress 
of  and  reflect  sound  than  many  opaque  and 
visible  substances.  A  blaze  is  susceptible  to 
sound,  and  by  increasing  the  pressure  upon  the 
gas,  Professor  Tyndall  was  able  to  make  the 
flame  at  a  gas-burner  so  sensitive  that  when 
he  chirruped  to  it,  it  would  answer  with  a 
corresponding  flicker;  he  then  made  it  still  more 
sensitive,  so  that  it  gave  a  continued  flicker, 
responsive  to  the  ticking  of  a  watch  placed 
within  a  foot  or  two  of  it.  He  therefore  in  his 
experiments  made  use  of  the  flames  from  two  gas- 
burners,  to  represent  the  ear  or  the  power  of 
hearing.  At  each  corner  of  the  front  part  of  his 
table  was  a  gas-light,  and,  as  the  sensitive  point 
of  a  flame  is  at  the  orifice  where  the  gas  issues 
from  the  burner,  a  glass  tunnel  was  affixed  to  the 
burner,  so  that  the  rays  of  sound  were  thus  made 
to  converge  upon  this  sensitive  point. 

On  a  third  corner  of  the  table,  and  near  him, 
was  a  reed  played  upon  by  a  bellows  ;  from  the 
reed  the  sound  was  projected  through  a  tube  ;  the 
tube  was  pointed  at  the  further  light  diagonally 
opposite  to  it,  and  (the  flame,  of  course,  being 
made  extra  sensitive  by  pressure)  when  no  sub- 
stance intervened  to  interrupt  the  sound,  the 
sound  would  set  this  further  blaze  into  violent 
vibration  ;  but  when  a  substance  impenetrable  to 
sound   intervened,   that   blaze   would   remain   per- 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  6/ 

fectly  still,  while  the  other  blaze,  at  the  opposite 
end  of  the  table,  and  behind  the  open  end  of  the 
tube  from  which  the  sound  issued,  would  vibrate 
with  a  violence  corresponding  to  the  degree  of 
impenetrability  of  the  interrupting  substance. 

Now  followed  experiments  on  impenetrability 
to  sound.  Substances  impervious  to  light  often 
did  not  interrupt  the  sound  wave ;  screens  of 
calico  held  some  inches  apart,  and  added  one 
after  the  other,  arrested  the  sound  by  degrees, 
but  not  completely  ;  a  handkerchief  folded  many 
times  together  allowed  the  sound  to  pass  through 
it,  but  when  the  handkerchief  was  wet  and  its 
interstices  thus  filled  with  water,  it  became  an 
impenetrable  wall,  entirely  arresting  the  sound  ; 
one  thickness  of  oiled  silk  was  much  more  imper- 
vious to  sound  than  a  piece  of  felt  half  an  inch 
thick. 

The  continuity  of  sound  depended  not  upon  the 
thickness,  but  upon  the  density  of  the  intervening 
screen.  A  thin  invisible  sheet  of  heated  air  rising 
from  a  single  gas-burner  held  below,  had  more 
power  to  arrest  the  sound  than  a  visible  screen  of 
many  thicknesses  of  cloth.  The  arresting  power 
of  a  number  of  streams  of  heated  oras  alonof  the 
course  of  the  sound-wave  was  shown  ;  and  car- 
bonic acid  gas,  also  sulphuric  ether,  mixed  with 
aqueous  vapor,  all  reflected  or  echoed  the  sound 
as  could  be  seen  by  the  flaring  of  one  or  the  other 


68  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

blaze,  according  as  the  sound  was  uninterrupted 
by  any  screen,  or  was  reflected  by  one  or  more 
screens. 

Professor  Tyndall  then  went  on  to  say,  that  he 
was  working  towards  a  problem,  long  an  enigma 
to  scientific  men.  In  1822  a  commission,  of 
which  Arago  and  other  celebrities  were  members, 
was  appointed  to  make  experiments  in  regard  to 
the  velocity  of  sound  ;  in  the  month  of  June,  in 
the  same  year,  they  proceeded  to  Villejeuf  and 
Montlhery  in  France  ;  between  these  two  places 
the  flash  of  cannons  could  be  distinctly  seen  at 
each  place  from  the  other;  but  while  every  cannon 
fired  at  Montlhery,  which  was  farther  from  Paris, 
could  be  heard  at  Villejeuf,  only  one  report  in 
twelve  at  the  latter  place  could  be  heard  at 
Montlhery,  although  the  direction  of  the  wind 
was  favorable.  This  he  explained  by  the  nearer 
situation  of  Villejeuf  to  Paris,  so  that  it  was 
enveloped  in  an  atmosphere  of  impurities  and 
gases  floating  out  to  it  from  Paris  and  enveloping 
it  in  a  heterogeneous  atmosphere,  which  formed 
an  acoustic  cloud  around  it,  impenetrable  to  the 
sound-wave  proceeding  from  the  cannon  ;  and  no 
echo  was  perceived,  because  the  sound  was  thrown 
back  so  soon  that  the  echo  was  united  with  the 
original  sound.  Sometimes  we  hear  no  echo, 
because  the  sound  is  wliolly  dissipated  before  it 
meets  with  any  reflecting  body.     As  a  rule,   the 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  69 

distance  which  sound  has  penetrated  may  be 
measured  by  the  length  of  the  echo.  In  con- 
ckicHng  this  cHscourse,  Professor  Tyndall  said  : 
"No  fact  stands  alone,  no  brick  is  left  unaccounted 
for  in  the  Temple  of  Science,  which  is  but  a 
handful  in  that  greater  temple  built  by  a  Power 
unscanned  and  unfathomable." 


JO  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


VI. 

CLIMATE— MEN  AND  WOMEN. 

^'AZING  with  the  stranger's  curiosity  at  one 
of  the  London  prisons,  an  Englishman 
sitting  next  to  me,  who  Hke  all  the  rest  of 
them,  had  learned  to  recognize  an  American  at 
first  sight,  politely  replied  to  my  questioning  look 
by  telling  me  the  name  and  purpose  of  the 
building,  and  in  continuance  remarked,  "  I  suppose 
the  public  conveyances  of  your  cities  are  far  supe- 
rior to  ours?"  "They  are  indeed  so,"  was  my 
reply,  "and  I  never  get  into  one  of  your  uncom- 
fortable omnibuses  without  wondering  that  you 
put  up  with  such  awkward  and  miserable  things." 
"To  tell  the  truth,  we  are  rather  proud  of  our 
inconveniences,"  he  pleasantly  replied,  and  that 
one  remark,  half-jest  and  half-earnest,  has  been  a 
key  to  many  things  in   London. 

The  philanthropy  of  the  Baroness  Burdett- 
Coutts  leads  her  to  recommend,  as  an  aid  in  the 
daily  repeated  modern  miracle  of  feeding  the 
multitude  in  London,  the  cultivating  of  the  goat 
for  milk  and  flesh,  and  a  newspaper  noticing  this, 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  7 1 

says,  "  The  recommendation  has  everything  in  its 
favor  save  and  except  only  that  it  is  not  of  the 
slightest  use  to  preach  to  Englishmen  about  getting 
out  of  the  old  grooves  and  occasionally  adopting 
an  economical  notion  from  abroad." 

In  this  respect,  I  might  say  in  this  respect  {7«/j', 
is  the  Englishman  the  exact  opposite  of  the 
American.  In  our  pursuit  of  the  better  we  turn 
to  every  novelty,  more  or  less  discontented  with 
whatever  we  have  ;  the  Englishman  is,  above  all 
things  in  the  world,  contented  ;  what  he  already 
has  is  good  enough  for  him,  and  if  by  chance  he 
adopts  some  innovation,  he  does  not  think 

" 'T  is  well  to  be  off  with  the  old  love 
Before  he  is  on  with  the  new," 

but  weds  himself  to  both.  The  very  entrance  to 
every  English  home  proclaims  this  English  senti- 
ment, for  somehow  the  more  modern  door-bell 
has  crept  into  use,  but  the  old-fashioned  knocker 
is  found  on  every  door,  with  the  inscription  "  ring 
also."  At  first  this  looked  very  foolish  to  me ;  if 
one  must  ring,  why  stop  to  knock  first  ?  But  the 
Englishman  has  time  enouo^h  for  both;  he  hesi- 
tates  at  what  is  novel,  and  asks  a  dozen  times, 
"Why  should  I  ?"  but  is  slow  to  stop  before  the 
long-established  and  ask,  "  Why  should  I  not?" 
Besides,  were  it  otherwise,  you  and  I  and  all 
strangers  would  lose  the  pleasure  of  listening  to 
the    postman's    peculiar    double    knock,    to    the 


72  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

approaching  sound  of  which  one  so  soon  learns 
to  turn  a  hopeful  ear. 

In  short,  considering  the  race  to  which  both 
Englishmen  and  Americans  belong,  it  would 
seem  that  originally  one  prominent  characteristic 
was  constancy,  but  by  the  process  of  adaptation 
to  the  conditions  of  life  in  the  New  World  this 
organ  has  become  so  changed  as  to  be  hardly 
recocrnized  ;  the  American  An^lo-Saxon  is  still 
constant,  but,  as  the  poet  has  it,  "constant  to  a 
constant  change." 

London  is  not  cheerful  ;  by  day  you  see  your- 
self shut  in  between  walls  discolored  by  smoke 
and  soot,  which  Dickens  poetically  calls  the 
"  London  ivy,"  a  metaphor  well  appreciated  by 
any  one  who  has  seen  the  black  soot  clinging  to 
everything,  and  mantling  the  whole  city  in  its 
drapery  ;  by  night  the  Englishman  drops  the 
thick  folds  of  his  curtains,  and  you  wander  through 
the  streets  longing  for  cheerful  windows  hinting 
at  social  firesides.  Thus  by  night  and  by  day, 
London,  in  Winter  especially,  is  superlatively 
gloomy,  and  I  was  struck  by  the  remark  of  an 
Englishman,  who  asserted  that  the  Londoner  is 
indebted  to  his  imagination  alone  for  whatever 
beauty  of  nature  he  talks  about;  "he  imagines," 
said  he,  "that  he  has  seen  the  blue-eyed  maiden, 
Spring,  in  her  robes  of  delicate  green,"  but  abso- 
lutely and  in  point   of   fact,  he   has   never   seen 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  J  T^ 

either  the  blue  of  the  sky  or  the  verdure  of  the 
leaf. 

To  know  how  dark  London  is  one  must  have 
Hved  elsewhere,  and  I  fully  appreciated  the  words 
of  Mr.  Wood,  who,  lecturing  on  his  own  excava- 
tions at  Ephesus  and  the  discovery  of  the  Temple 
of  Diana,  pointed  out  in  his  diagram  the  emblem 
of  the  sun,  found  carved  on  a  stone  pillar,  adding 
that  Londoners  might  be  glad  to  see  something 
like  the  sun,  even  were  it  nothing  but  its  graven 
image.  Emerson  quotes  a  witticism  describing 
London  light  to  be  in  fair  weather  like  looking 
up  a  chimney,  and  in  foul  weather  like  looking 
down  it.  I  think  the  chimney  has  not  been 
swept  since  the  remark  was  first  made. 

It  is  astonishing  to  hear  residents  long  here 
complain  of  the  severe  cold  of  Winter.  I  have 
seen  the  streets  whitened  but  once  with  snow, 
and  but  one  morning  has  there  been  the  least 
sign  of  frost  upon  the  windows.  Comparing  such 
a  temperature  with  our  own  northern  latitudes, 
Atlantic  and  even  Pacific,  the  facts  seem  incred- 
ible ;  there  are  various  reasons  offered  for  this 
phenomenon,  but  it  is  most  satisfactory  to  look  for 
the  cause  in  the  development  of  latent  heat, 
produced  by  the  condensation  from  vapor  of  the 
almost  continuously  falling  rain.  We  are  just 
now  having  a  little  rainstorm  which  began  on  my 
arrival  six  months  ago.      Good  old  Noah  became 


74  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

discouraged  and  packed  his  Saratoga  trunk  at  the 
prospect  of  a  six  weeks'  rain,  but  we  are  more 
patient  than  Noah. 

London  is  a  wearying  place,  not  alone  from  its 
immense  distances  which  you  are  unwittingly 
beguiled  into  walking,  but  still  more  from  its 
interesting  spots  and  associations  ;  it  seems  that 
the  most  common  names  have  a  meaning,  if  you 
can  but  ferret  it  out,  and  with  every  corner  you 
turn,  you  turn  the  leaf  to  some  new  story  of 
history  or  biography.  London  alone  seems 
sufficient  to  have  placed  the  English  at  the  head 
of  the  intellectual  world,  for  one  has  here  but  to 
open  eye  and  ear,  and  enough  enlightenment  will 
flow  in  to  drown  io-norance,  even  thouo-h  the 
intellect  be  not  deeply  stirred. 

It  is  as  if  the  curious  mind  had  but  to  ask 
questions  in  regard  to  mere  local  names  in  London 
and  thereby  will  be  acquired  a  fair  knowledge  of 
English  history  ;  for  instance,  in  our  neighborhood 
is  the  Soho  Bazaar,  a  series  of  shops  extending 
within  the  buildings  between  Oxford  Street  and 
Soho  Square  ;  the  name  has  a  novel  ring  in  your 
ear,  and  some  one  will  tell  you  that  the  Square 
was  formerly  the  residence  of  the  Duke  of  Mon- 
mouth, the  illegitimate  son  of  Charles  II.,  who, 
trying  to  wrest  the  crown  from  James,  was 
condemned  to  be  executed — and  when  you  see 
his    face    in    the  portrait  gallery   of   Kensington 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  75 

Museum,  you  will  exclaim,  "What  a  pity  to  cut 
off  such  a  handsome  head!"  This  same  Duke,  a 
oreat  favorite  with  the  people,  was  supposed  by 
some  to  have  escaped,  that  another  suffered  in  his 
stead,  and  that  he  was  the  mysterious  Iron  Mask 
of  the  Castle  of  Pigneral  and  of  the  Bastile. 
The  war  cry  of  his  followers  was  "Soho,"  hence 
the  name  of  the  Square  where  he  resided. 

In  less  than  ten  minutes'  walk  from  Soho 
Square,  you  come  to  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  and 
with  this  well-known  name  you  link  the  story 
(true  or  not)  of  Ben  Johnson,  who,  forced  by  his 
step-father  to  lay  bricks  at  the  building  of  Lincoln's 
Inn,  worked  with  a  trowel  in  one  hand  and  his 
Horace  in  the  other.  Not  far  away,  in  Gerrard 
Street,  you  come  upon  a  house  bearing  an  inscrip- 
tion stating  that  it  was  once  the  residence  of  the 
Poet  Dryden. 

Taking  the  wrong  omnibus,  I  found  myself 
one  night  near  Temple  Bar,  instead  of  where  I 
meant  to  be  ;  my  nearest  way  home  was  through 
Chancery  Lane,  and  quite  a  romance  I  made  of 
that  walk.  I  had  lately  been  reading  a  sketch 
of  Coleridge  ;  disappointed,  in  spite  of  his  rep- 
utation for  talent,  in  attaining  college  honors,  in  a 
fit  of  despondency  and  embarrassed  with  debts 
he  left  the  University  at  Cambridge  and  came  up 
to  London,  where  he  took  the  best  lodgings  he 
could  aftord — some  door-steps  in  Chancery  Lane. 


76  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

The  place  was  comparatively  lonely  as  I  walked 
through  it,  and  as  things  seldom  change  here,  I 
had  only  to  add  to  the  actual  scene  around  me 
the  picture  of  the  despondent  youth  lurking  in  the 
shadows  of  the  door-ways  that  I  passed  by,  and 
to  imagine  the  mental  state  which  such  a  situation 
must  induce  in  a  sensitive,  poetic  nature. 

On  the  same  evening  I  had  dropped  in,  towards 
the  close  of  evening  services,  at  one  of  the  City 
churches  built  by  Christopher  Wren.  The  silent 
language  of  a  sixpence  induced  the  sexton  to 
delay  closing  the  house  while  I  observed  its 
beauty.  A  very  large,  square  pew,  with  its  doors 
bearing  coat-of-arms,  and  one  of  its  seats  forming 
an  arm-chair  with  a  high  back  surmounted  by  an 
iron  rod  terminating  in  a  crown,  proved  to  be  a 
pew  set  apart  for  the  occasional  presence  of  the 
Lord  Mayor.  He  always  attends  here  once  a 
year — on  St.  Michaelmas  Day — when  he  wears 
his  full  robes  of  state,  and  is  accompanied  by  his 
Sheriffs,  Mace-bearer,  Sword-bearer,  etc.  His 
principal  attendants  are  seated  with  him  in  the 
pew,  while  his  numerous  retinue  fills  the  aisle. 

London  seems  to  be  at  the  head  of  the  world 
in  regard  to  the  freedom  in  which  unaccompanied 
women  can  traverse  its  streets  at  nisfht.  ThrouQfh 
lanes  and  dirty  alleys,  through  lonely  streets  and 
crowded  thoroughfares,  a  woman  passes  unmo- 
lested   and    unremarked.      I    remember   crossing 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  ^'] 

one  night  at  about  ten  o'clock  the  somewhat 
notorious  place  called  the  Seven  Dials,  and 
stopping  to  examine  the  spot  before  I  discovered 
its  name.  It  is  a  regular  shaped  space,  from 
which  diverge  seven  streets,  alternating  in  their 
divergence  with  the  ends  of  seven  radiating  rows 
of  houses,  uniform  in  width  with  the  streets;  a 
gas  light  in  its  center  illumines  the  space. 

The  police  are  a  very  fine-looking  set  of  men, 
always  obliging  and  courteous  ;  even  old  residents 
are  obliged  to  ask  the  way  of  them.  The  only 
shade  of  rudeness  I  have  ever  known  in  them 
was  directed  to  myself  one  day  when  asking  the 
way  to  Holborn,  and  to  the  question,  "What  part 
of  Holborn.^"  I  replied  "  Bloomsbury."  "Why 
don't  you  ask  the  way  to  Bloomsbury,  then?" 
was  the  rather  gruff  retort,  to  which  my  answer, 
"  Because  I  did  n't  know  enough  to  do  so," 
seemed  quite  satisfactory  to  him. 
.  The  safety  of  pedestrians  among  so  many 
horses  is  also  remarkable.  In  six  months  I  have 
never  seen  or  heard  of  a  runaway  team,  and  the 
cabs  also  number  more  than  ten  thousand. 

I  spent  some  time  trying  to  find  the  street 
railroad  horse-cars,  and  when  I  did  find  them, 
they  neither  traversed  the  streets  nor  were  drawn 
by  horses.  The  Metropolitan  Railway,  which 
here  serves  the  purpose  of  our  street  car.  has 
a    circuitous    and    extensive    underground     track 


78  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

beneath  the  city  ;  the  propelling-  power  is  steam, 
and  the  stations,  between  which  of  course  one 
cannot  stop,  are  conveniently  frequent ;  one 
travels  in  this  way  at  great  speed,  and  without  its 
aid  London  could  never  accomplish  its  day's  work. 
There  is  also  one  line  of  street-cars  like  ours, 
coming  into  the  city  from  the  direction  of  Stoke 
Newington,  part  of  the  metropolis. 

I  had  always  imagined  railroad  travel  in  this 
staid  and  well-regulated  country  to  be  compara- 
tively without  risk,  but  the  winter's  record  of 
accidents  has  quite  undeceived  me ;  so  great  has 
the  number  been  that  one  abroad  would  hardlv 
believe  the  figures  ;  but  when  one  sees — espec- 
ially when  from  one  end  of  the  kingdom  to  the 
other  one  has  been  confused  by — the  numerous 
roads,  and  considers  the  immense  amount  of  traffic, 
frequent    disasters  begin  to  appear  unavoidable. 

As  I  went  yesterday  from  here  to  the  Crystal 
Palace,  a  distance  of  some  seven  miles,  it  was 
wonderful  to  see  the  lines  and  lines  of  rails 
running  on  either  side  in  parallel  or  intersecting 
lines.  One  place  is  named  "  the  network,"  and 
did  not  travelers  learn  to  put  more  faith  in  rail- 
road officials  than  they  usually  do  in  Providence, 
it  would  be  quite  terrifying  to  cross  here  ;  several 
times  there  were  four  or  five  trains  very  near 
together,  reminding  one,  as  they  dodged  each 
other,  of  skillful  skaters  on  ice. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  79 

There  is  a  popular  movement  now  to  open  on 
Sundays  the  museums  and  Hke  places.  A  mass- 
meeting  was  held  with  that  intent  at  one  of  the 
theatres  on  Ash  Wednesday,  on  which  day  the 
drama  is  prohibited.  The  strongest  plea  advanced 
is  that  the  people  will  thus  be  won  from  drinking 
saloons  or  "pubs"  (public  houses).  One  lady 
spoke,  her  principal  argument  being  that  it  was 
impossible  to  induce  the  people  to  give  up  any 
enjoyment  without  offering  another  in  its  stead. 

At  first  it  looked  rather  strange  to  me  to  see 
women  frequenting  bar-rooms  with  the  same  free- 
dom as  men.  I  do  not  think  thev  linger  so  long- 
to  tell  stories  as  the  other  sex,  but  they  stop  in 
wherever  they  choose  and  call  for  whatever  they 
like,  and  perhaps  leisurely  enjoy  it  with  a  cracker— 
or  biscuit,  as  we  say  here.  I  do  not  know  whether 
or  not  they  have  exerted  any  refining  influence 
on  these  places.  I  have  seert  very  respectable- 
looking  women  on  their  way  from  church, 
prayer-book  in  hand,  entering  or  standing  at  the 
bar  drinking.  In  hiring  servants  here  one  always 
bargains  either  to  furnish  them  with  a  certain 
amount  of  beer  daily,  or  to  pay  them  a  certain 
sum  as  "  beer-money." 

Of  course  I  have  found  my  own  pleasure  in 
scrutinizing  the  people  as  well  as  their  habits  and 
surroundings.  I  have  always  heard  of  the  fine 
complexion    of    English    ladies,   and   their  active 


8o  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

out-door  life  as  its  cause;  I  believe,  indeed,  in  the 
former,  which  is  absolutely  lovely,  but  not  in  the 
latter,  for  I  have  found  the  English  woman  less 
active  than  her  American  sister ;  walking-tours 
once  a  year  are  fashionable  (I  have  even  met 
ladies  who  have  tried  it),  but  I  am  sure  that  in 
London  both  men  and  women  drive  more  and 
walk  less  than  we  do.  Their  good  health  first 
creates  the  complexion,  which  the  climate  pre- 
serves, keeping  the  skin  soft  by  its  moisture,  and 
leaving  it  unirritated  by  winds  and  unburnt  by 
the  sun.  The  climate  is  also  evidently  favorable 
to  the  growth  of  the  hair ;  throughout  Great 
Britain  the  beautiful  hair  of  the  women  charms 
you,  and  we  cannot  doubt  that  this  has  always 
been  the  case,  since  we  read  that  the  beautiful 
hair  of  the  English  captives  carried  hundreds  of 
years  ago  to  Rome,  was  much  admired.  I 
do  not,  however,  find  the  features  of  the  face  as 
fine  as  on  our  continent ;  neither  is  their  physique 
equal  to  our  ideal  of  it.  I  have  many  times 
seen  astonishingly  tall  women,  but  as  a  whole 
they  look  no  taller  than  ourselves  ;  the  women, 
however,  are  usually  far  too  stout  to  have  grace  of 
figure,  while  many  of  the  men  are  remarkable  for 
their  thinness.  I  have  certainly  seen  a  greater 
proportion  of  spindle-legged  men  in  the  streets  of 
London  than  in  any  other  city  ;  it  would  seem 
that  somehow  their  lower  limbs  had    melted  and 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  8 1 

run  down  into  their  shoes,  there  spreading  out 
into  such  enormous  feet  that  it  becomes  quite  an 
art  to  walk  the  streets  without  being  trod  upon. 
I  have  no  doubt  that  what  we  call  English  reserve 
is  the  mere  habit,  not  of  keeping  people  at  an 
unsocial  distance,  but  of  avoiding  their  feet. 

The  English  language  is  said  to  be  lately 
enriched  by  a  new  word.  A  certain  Mrs.  Podgers 
is  continually  in  trouble  with  cabmen  and  sum- 
moning them  before  courts  of  justice.  The  lady 
has  become  so  well  known  in  court-circles  and 
cab-circles  that  the  verb  "  to  podger"  is  somewhat 
generally  adopted,  and  a  dishonest  cabman  will 
put  on  the  cloak  of  honesty  if  one  threatens  to 
"podger"  him.  Perhaps  future  etymologists  are 
to  puzzle  their  brains  in  vain  over  the  origin  of 
this  new  word.  By-the-way,  the  cabmen  of 
London  have  no  enviable  berth.  They  pay 
something  over  three  dollars  per  day  for  their 
team,  and  are  allowed  to  charge  but  one  shilling 
for  the  first  mile  and  sixpence  per  mile  for 
additional  distance.  As  many  passengers  may 
ride  for  that  one  shilling  as  can  seat  themselves 
in  the  conveyance  ;  at  least  four  can  ride  in  a 
four-wheeled  cab.  The  law  does  not  permit  a 
cabman  to  refuse  to  take  a  "  fare  "  wherever  he 
wants  to  go  ;  should  he  refuse,  from  the  lateness 
of  the   hour  or  other  causes,    your   redress  is  to 

"  podger"  him. 

London,  November,  1874. 


8: 


LETTERS  OF  TRAVEL. 


VII. 


LETTER  TO  A  FRIEND. 


E  have  to-day  had  our  second  fog,  and 
I  am  quite  unfitted  by  it  for  anything, 
especially  letter-writing.  It  has  given 
both  D.  and  myself  a  sick  headache  and  my  eyes 
burn  like  coals  of  fire  and  are  weighed  down  with 
heaviness.  The  morning,  between  eight  and  nine 
o'clock,  was  about  as  usual,  but  instead  of  growing 
lighter  as  it  generally  does,  it  soon  became  so 
obscure  that  we  could  only  read  comfortably  by 
sitting  quite  near  the  window  and  also  selecting 
large  print.  At  twelve  o'clock  we  were  obliged  to 
give  up  reading  altogether,  and  at  one  o'clock  the 
house  was  so  pervaded  with  the  smoke  that  half- 
way across  our  sitting-room  we  could  not  clearly 
discern  each  other's  faces  nor  the  color  of  each 
other's  clothing.  There  was  no  moisture  in  the 
air,  nor  any  deposited  on  door-steps  or  side-walk. 
Since  three  o'clock  it  has  been  gradually  lessening. 
I  find  London  like  an  old  curiosity  shop, 
wherein  one  wanders  about  in  a  peculiar  state  of 
enjoyment,  where  things  familiar  to  the  imagina- 
tion are  constantly  arising  in   reality  before  him, 


LETTERS.  OF    TRAVEL.  83 

and  he  seems  to  be  unravelling  the  web  which 
the  record  of  Enfrlish  literature  has  woven  in  his 
mind.  I  am  so  ridiculously  romantic— I  suppose 
you  will  say — that  just  the  sight  of  the  name  of 
some  street  thrills  me  through  and  through,  and 
dull  and  uninteresting  as  its  mere  aspect  actually 
may  be,  and  usually  is,  some  story  of  the  past,  of 
reality  or  fiction,  in  clearer  or  fainter  outline, 
changes  its  aspect  to  one  of  rare  interest,  and  its 
atmosphere  reflects  into  the  mind  the  light  of 
mental  associations,  so  that  I  roam  about  here, 
day  after  day,  in  a  sort  of  trance,  in  which  the 
visions  of  the  fancy  arise  clothed  in  reality. 

I  do  not  care  so  much  for  the  fine  avenues  and 
parks  of  London  as  for  its  memorable  nooks  and 
by-ways,  and  my  great  delight  has  been  to  stroll 
about,  and  when  I  saw  some  mysterious  or  forbid- 
ding-looking passage,  to  turn  my  steps  into  it; 
and  such  are,  or  have  been  in  my  case,  the  most 
frequent  entrance  to  some  old  traditional  land- 
mark. So  I  found  my  way  one  afternoon  into 
the  Temple  Gardens,  through  arched  passages 
leadinof  from  one  court  to  another,  where  the 
buildings  on  every  side  had  each  its  own  sun-dial 
with  Latin  motto,  and  finally  coming  out  into  the 
pleasant  gardens,  lying  there  in  the  quiet  October 
sunshine  as  peaceful  and  still  as  if  the  fevered 
pulse  of  London's  heart  could  not  be  felt  in  one 
of  its  chief  arteries,  at  but  a  few  rods'  distance. 


84  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

Another  time,  being  in  the  City,  I  turned  into 
a  narrow  street — Bread  Street,  which,  by  the  way, 
is  not  far  from  Milk  Street — and  my  eye  happened 
to  catch  on  the  corner  of  a  dingy-looking  church 
a  few  lines  of  poetry,,  and  under  that  an  inscription 
saying  that  was  the  street  in  which  Milton  was 
born,  and  that  in  this  church  he  was  baptized. 

The  churches  here  are,  too,  a  rare  study,  and 
even  a  sinner  mio-ht  not  find  an  occasional  hour 
in  them  amiss.  At  the  Italian  church,  where  we 
are  to  go  the  first  fine  Sunday  evening,  the  music 
is  rendered  by  a  full  band.  The  interior  of  some 
of  the  churches  is  quite  in  harmony  with  the  use 
to  which  they  are  dedicated.  Others  are  so 
theatrical  in  their  style  of  architecture  that  one 
wonders  if  they  were  not  built  to  be  sold  to  the 
highest  bidder,  whether  he  might  be  an  agent 
of  the  church  or  an  agent  of  the  drama,  equally 
adapted  to  either  use. 

1  have  not  yet  made  acquaintance  with  many 
of  the  interesting  monuments  of  London,  on 
account  of  a  severe  cold,  unfavorably  aftected  by 
the  dampness  of  these  large  stone  edifices, 
although,  of  course,  I  were  no  American  had  I 
not  first  and  earliest  offered  the  pilgrim's  homage 
to  the  shrines  of  St.  Paul's  and  Westminster. 

It  would  seem  from  those  I  have  visited,  and 
others  I  have  heard  of,  that  you  can  hardly  locate 
yourself  here  without  being  at  a  convenient  near- 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  85 

ness  to  some  large  public  library  ;  but  at  any  rate 
there  are  many,  and  many  that  are  free.  We  are 
within  three  minutes'  walk  of  the  British  Museum, 
and  I  think  access  to  it  one  of  the  greatest  treats 
of  life.  If  I  go  there  in  the  morning  to  read  a 
while,  I  am  sure  to  remain  all  day,  and  then  feel 
almost  impatient  at  the  early  closing  in  of  the 
darkness. 

We  amused  ourselves  several  evenings  by 
visiting  the  meetings  of  a  Co-operative  Society 
in  our  neighborhood,  and  we  found  instruction, 
entertainment  and  amusement.  One  evenins"  a 
very  intelligent  man,  a  spiritualist,  made  some 
remarks  about  compound  consciousness.  A  rather 
illiterate  brother  member  soon  after  made  some 
remarks,  in  which  he  acknowledwd  he  knew 
nothing  of  the  gendeman's  "confounded  con- 
sciousness." 

Then  there  are  so  many  lectures  given  by 
eminent  men — either  free  or  at  a  mere  nominal 
price  —  that  one's  only  difficulty  is  to  choose 
between  them,  and  when  one  has  been,  he  hardly 
knows  whether  he  is  more  pleased  with  the  lecture 
or  disgusted  with  the  uncomfortable  seats,  which 
are  very  often  narrow,  uncushioned  benches  with- 
out backs. 

The  tone  of  the  press  here  is  very  unfair,  I 
think,  toward  our  country,  and  the  general 
feeling   among  the    people    at    large  is    far   less 


86  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

friendly  than  ours  to  the  EngHsh.  They  do  not 
understand  that  if  what  they  say  is  true,  and  there 
may  be  some  truth  in  it,  that  there  is  nothing  we 
would  like  better  than  to  have  a  little  brush  with 
them  and  give  them  a  whipping,  that  the  feeling 
with  which  we  would  do  it  would  be  quite 
fraternal,  and  would  rather  redound  to  the  family 
honor.  But  they  do  not  give  us  credit  for  the 
good-will  with  which  the  same  fraternal  feeling 
would  make  us  stand  by  them,  should  the  hour  of 
need  fall  upon  them.  Then,  too,  they  are  con- 
tinually pointing  to  our  press  and  exclaiming, 
"  See  there,  what  a  wicked  country  yours  is!" 
while,  really,  in  reading  their  papers,  the  only 
difference  I  can  see  is  that  they  omit  the  sensa- 
tional headings,  and  print  their  worst  crimes  in 
the  smallest  type. 

I  hardly  know  how  to  express  to  you  the 
feeling  I  have  toward  this  metropolis — it  is  such 
a  rich,  rare,  quaint  old  place,  such  a  store-house 
for  the  enjoyment  of  antiquarian  taste,  such  an 
intellectual  reservoir  for  the  refreshment  of  the 
garden  of  your  thoughts,  that  tor  my  own  part, 
I  feel  that  when  I  leave  it  all  my  life  will  be 
sensible  of  a  want  before  unknown  ;  while  on  the 
other  hand,  I  am  so  oppressed  by  the  dim  light 
that  it  is  like  an  actual  weight  upon  me — as  if 
the  skies  were  about  to  fall  and  crush  me — every- 
thing is  dull,   dingy  and  dreary — and   were    I   to 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  8/ 

make  a  home  here  I  should  want  my  walls  hung- 
with  paper  covered  with  tiger-lilies,  dahlias, 
hollyhocks  and  sun-fiowers  ;  I  would  dress  my 
husband  in  scarlet  and  myself  in  bright  yellow, 
to  throw  around  us  something  to  remind  us  of  the 
sunset  glow  and  golden  sunlight;  and  when  it  is 
unusually  dusky  and  dim,  I  sometimes  find  myself 
wondering  that  the  inhabitants  do  not  migrate  in 
a  body  to  some  clime  where  the  sky  is  blue,  and 
build  up  another  London. 

London,  December,  1874. 


88  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


VIII. 

ST.   PAUL'S— WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 

^'RAND  old  London,  who  teaches  us  mod- 
erns— idolaters  of  the  Future — to  bow  in 
worshipful  reverence  to  the  Past !  Lon- 
don has  ancient  monumental  treasure  enough  for 
a  whole  world.  Enter  her  Tower,  and  Time 
unrolls  for  you  her  scroll  of  eight  hundred  years  ; 
its  walls  are  alive  with  history ;  your  heart 
quickens  its  throbbings  at  this  thrilling  scene, 
shudders  at  that,  and  stands  still  in  horror  at 
another  ;  and  while  you  read  the  story  of  a 
thousand  years'  vibrations  from  one  extreme  of 
passion  to  another,  you  can  but  do  homage  to 
the  nation  whose  power  is  written  in  such  terrible 
lines-  of  alternate  blood  and  splendor.  The 
Tower  is  an  altar — a  heathen  altar,  perhaps — to 
the  national  power  of  England. 

From  the  Tower  to  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Paul — 
from  one  altar  to  another ;  St.  Paul's  grasps  you 
with  its  giant  hand  and  will  not  let  you  go.  How 
I  have  wandered  around  its  outer  walls,  repeating 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  89 

again  and  again  its  circuit ;  how  I  have  lingered 
and  gazed,  and  turned  from  it  but  to  turn  and 
gaze  again,  held  as  by  some  irresistible  law  of 
gravitation  ;  how  I  have  watched  the  rude  play 
of  boys  and  girls  on  its  steps,  and  wondered  at 
such  a  play-ground;  how  I  have  wandered  through 
its  spacious  aisles,  and  gazed  up  into  its  lofty 
dome,  lost  in  its  reverie  inspiring  influence ;  and 
here  it  has  been  to  the  creative  power  of  human 
genius  that  I  have  done  homage.  St.  Paul's  is  a 
grand  and  stately  giant,  proclaiming,  "  Worship 
to  its  creator — man." 

I    have    stood    in    the    aisles    of    Westminster 
Abbey.     National  greatness,  human  power  vanish 
before    this    spot,    this    holy   of   holies.     Among 
many  cathedrals,   never  have   I   seen  one  whose 
roof  so  nearly  touched  the  heavens,  whose  walls 
took  in  such  grandeur.      Enter  and  behold!    The 
building  around  you  dissolves,  and  lo  !  a  temple 
whose  picture,   painted  by  the  burning  pencil  of 
enthusiastic   reverence  for  the    great  and    good, 
shall  never    be  seen  but  on  the  secret  pages  of 
your  own  soul.      Through  its  far-stretching  aisles 
rolls  the  succession  of  the  ages  ;  its  pillars   com- 
plete in  symmetry,  now  drawing  the  eye  forward, 
are  transformed  into  columns  of  beauty,   planted 
by    civilization     and     philanthropy    along     "  the 
corridors  of  Time  ;"  anon  lifting  the  eye  upward 
to    the    majestic    vault   whose    lines    of    beauty 


go  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

symbolize  the  happy  age  to  descend  upon  earth 
when  such  elevating  influences  as  are  here 
hallowed  shall  have  developed  "  the  perfect  man 
that  is  to  be."  Go  to  London  Tower  if  you  would 
see  a  mighty  emblem  of  England's  power;  go  to 
St.  Paul's  to  feel  the  greatness  of  human  genius ; 
go  to  Westminster  Abbey  to  sound  the  depth  of 
your  own  soul,  to  measure  the  littleness  of  man, 
the  greatness  of  mankind. 

He  who  would  seek  for  the  earliest  beginning 
of  a  sacred  temple  on  this  spot,  must  go  back  to 
a  time  so  early  that  the  boundaries  of  history  and 
fable  not  only  meet  but  are  inextricably  confused. 
The  monks  of  this  abbey,  wishing  to  rival  in 
antiquity  the  edifice  to  St.  Paul,  forged  fictitious 
chronicles,  in  some  of  which  they  make  it  origin- 
all\  a  Pagan  temple  destroyed  by  an  earthquake 
A.  D.  154  ;  other  archives  date  its  foundation  as 
a  Christian  temple,  A.  D.  184;  the  ambition  of 
others  was  satisfied  by  as  early  an  origin  as  the 
fifth  or  sixth  century  ;  both  of  the  latter  make  it, 
during  the  early  persecutions  of  the  Christians,  a 
temple  to  Apollo.  To  King  Sebert,  whose  ancient 
tomb  is  seen  at  the  side  of  the  present  altar,  is 
given  the  credit  of  restoring  the  Christian  worship 
here.  The  church,  or  minster,  was  built  on  a 
neglected  spot  overrun  with  thorns,  called  Thorney 
Island,  and  situated  west  of  London  ;  hence  its 
name.        Its     proper     title     is    "The     Collegiate 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  9 1 

Church,  or  Abbey  of  St.  Peter,"  to  which  saint  it 
was  dedicated. 

In  the  chronicles  just  mentioned  is  an  account 
of  its  miraculous  dedication  by  St.  Peter  himself: 
preparations   for   this  ceremony  were  nearly  com- 
pleted, when  one  dark  and  stormy  night  a  fisher- 
man named  Edricus  was  accosted  by  a  person  who 
demanded  to  be  carried  across  the  Thames^  prom- 
ising  a   reward.      Edricus   took   his  passenger  to 
Thorney   Island,   where  the  stranger  entered  the 
church   from   which   issued   immediately   light  of 
wonderful  brightness  ;  the   air  was  filled  with  the 
music  of  celestial   voices  and  perfumed  with  fra- 
grant odors,  while  angels  were  seen  ascending  and 
descendino-  between  heaven  and  earth.     St.  Peter 
finally  issued  from  the  church,  and  so  successfully 
restored  the  awe-struck  fisherman  that  the  latter 
did    not    forget    to    remind    the    apostle   of    his 
promised  reward.     After  announcing  his  name,  the 
purpose  of  his  visit,  and  commissioning  him  to  tell 
the  Bishop  to  refrain  from  a  second  dedication,  St. 
Peter  ordered  Edricus  to  cast  his  nets  into  the 
river;  the  result  was  a  iniraczdous  draught  of  salmon. 
The  saint    promised    Edricus   that    none    of  his 
brethren  should  ever  want  for  fish  so  long  as  they 
presented    every    tenth   fish    to    the   church   just 
dedicated.      Belief  in    this   tale   was  so  faithfully 
inculcated  by  the  monks,  that  even  so  late  as  the 
fourteenth  century  fishermen  were  in  the  habit  of 


92  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

offering  salmon  on  the  high  altar,  receiving  in 
return  refreshment  of  ale  and  bread  at  the 
convent  table. 

Passing  beyond  the  time  of  King  Sebert,  in 
the  seventh  century,  the  history  of  the  abbey  is 
reliably  connected  with  the  name  of  Edward  the 
Confessor,  the  last  of  the  Saxon  Kings  of  Eng- 
land. He  was  the  first  who  touched  for  the  disease 
called  "king's  evil,"  and  his  miraculous  healing 
power  was  by  virtue  of  his  great  sanctity.  In 
Edward's  exile  during  the  Danish  rule  in  England, 
he  made  a  vow,  should  he  be  restored  to  his  throne, 
of  a  pilgrimage  to  Rome.  Scarcely  was  the  vow 
made  when  the  crown  descended  upon  his  brow. 
His  people,  however,  objected  to  the  absence 
necessary  for  a  pilgrimage,  and,  at  their  request, 
the  Pope  absolved  him  from  his  vow  on  condition 
of  his  building  or  restoring  some  church.  Strangely 
enough,  immediately  thereupon  a  monk  of 
Westminster  had  a  dream,  in  which  St.  Peter 
commanded  him  to  announce  to  the  King  that  he 
should  repair  the  church  to  which  this  monk 
belonged  ;  thus  Edward  was  relieved  of  some 
perplexity,  and  he  proceeded  to  rebuild  the  church 
from  its  very  foundation.  It  was,  if  I  be  not 
mistaken,  the  first  cruciform  church  in  England. 
Its  building  occupied  fifteen  years  and  on  it  was 
spent  one-tenth  of  the  whole  wealth  of  the  king- 
dom.     For  the  present  cathedral  we  are  chiefly 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  93 

indebted  to  Henry  III.,  of  the  thirteenth  century. 
According  to  the  rehgious  faith  of  the  sovereign 
it  has  been  by  turns  Cathohc  and   Protestant. 

Poet's  Corner!  Never  was  sacred  spot  christened 
with  a  more  beautiful  name — a  name  familiar  to 
us  as  that  of  London  itself ;  a  spot  to  which  the 
American  heart  clino^s  with  almost  strongfer  tendrils 
of  affection  than  that  of  the  Englishman.  Poet's 
Corner  occupies  the  south  transept,  one  of  the 
short  arms  of  the  cross  forminof  the  outline  of  the 
building  ;  it  consists  of  a  nave  and  one  aisle,  and  is 
eighty-two  feet  in  length  by  eighty-four  in  width; 
its  stained  glass  windows  represent,  for  the  most 
part,  scriptural  scenes  from  the  life  of  Christ.  In 
point  of  sculpture  it  is  the  poorest  part  of  the 
abbey,  but  in  point  of  sentiment  and  inspiration, 
in  its  world-wide  encircling  mental  and  intellectual 
traditions,  was  ever  spot  in  all  the  world  so  rich.'^ 
From  pole  to  pole,  from  ocean  shore  to  ocean  shore, 
where  will  you  find  a  cultured  soul  that  does  not 
glow  with  warmth  responsive  to  the  heavenly  fire 
with  which  the  genius  of  those  who  rest  here  has 
lighted  the  world?  This  is  not,  as  the  name  might 
imply,  a  spot  dedicated  to  writers  of  poetry  only. 
Divines,  musicians,  actors— all  whose  poetic  souls 
have  found  expression  in  beautiful  lives — may 
here  minHe  their  ashes  with  the  ashes  of  those 
who,  independent  of  deeds,  have  with  words 
flooded  the  world  with  harmony. 


94  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

The  first  poet  buried  in  the  abbey  was,  most 
appropriately,  Chaucer,  who  has  been  styled  the 
Father  of  English  Poetry.  He  died  in  1400.  His 
monument  was  erected  in  1555.  Over  his  tomb 
is  a  memorial  window,  illustrated  almost  entirely 
by  the  different  characters  in  his  works,  chiefly 
from  his  "  Canterbury  Tales."  One  of  Chaucer's 
poems  bears  this  title,  "  A  Ballad  Made  by 
Geoffrey  Chaucer  on  His  Death-bed,  Lying  in 
Great  Anguish,"  in  which  each  verse  ends  with 
this  line  : 

"  And  Truth  thee  shall  deliver,  it  is  no  dread." 

It  was  only  at  my  second  visit,  and  then  by 
accident,  that  I  discovered  the  final  resting  place 
of  Dickens.  A  grayish  marble  slab  in  the  floor, 
over  which  one  may  heedlessly  walk,  bears  this 
inscription  in  letters  of  brass:  "  Charles  Dickens  ; 
born  7th  February,  1812;  died  9th  June,  1870." 
For  an  hour  I  sat  by  this  simple  memorial,  and  it 
seemed  almost  sacrilege  that  that  brain,  which  had 
known  how  to  play  upon  all  the  keys  of  the  human 
heart  and  make  it  vibrate  to  his  touch,  should  lie 
low  in  the  dust  beneath  my  unworthy  tread  ;  and 
as  the  folds  of  my  garments  rested  on  his  stony 
covering;  I  would  fain  have  softened  to  him,  for 
his  genius'  sake,  the  great  humiliation  in  dust 
which  awaits  as  all,  whether  we  be  inspired 
masters  or  unworthy  slaves. 

Directly  in  a  line  from   this  stone,  a  dozen  feet 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  95 

or  more  distant,  in  the  rear  of  a  statue  to  Addison, 
are  the  busts  of  Thackeray  and  Macaulay  side  by 
side  ;  near  by,  a  plain  slab  in  the  pavement  bearing 
the  name  of  the  latter,  indicates  his  grave.  The 
memorial  to  Shakespeare  (for  not  all  who  have 
monuments  here  are  here  interred)  was  erected 
125  years  after  his  death.  It  is  a  statue  of  the 
poet  in  the  dress  of  the  time,  holding,  as  he  stands, 
a  scroll  on  which  one  reads  his  own  words  : 

"  The  cloud  capped  towers,  the  gorgeous  palaces, 
The  solemn  temple,  the  great  globe  itself, 
Yea,  all  which  it  inherit,  shall  dissolve, 
And  like  the  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision, 
Leave  not  a  wreck  behind." 

A  monument  on  the  wall  bears,  under  his 
medallion,  this  inscription  :  "  O,  Rare  Ben  John- 
son;" a  little  further  alono^  and  over  a  door,  the 
medallion  of  Goldsmith's  homely  profile.  Here, 
too,  are  Spencer,  Milton,  Thompson,  Southey, 
Campbell,  and  many  others  whose  very  names 
have  become  poems  to  us,  their  heirs.  Musicians 
are  usually  buried  near  the  choir,  but  Handel's 
monument  is  in  the  Poet's  Corner  ;  it  represents 
him  in  the  attitude  of  composition  ;  in  the  back- 
ground an  organ  ;  above,  an  angel  playing  on  a 
harp  ;  under  his  arm  a  pil#of  musical  instruments; 
before  him  the  Messiah,  open  at  the  words,  "  I 
know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth." 

Nor  are  there  wanting  here  those  who  have 
worn,  not    the  crown   of  genius,    but    the   double 


96  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

crown  of  regality  and  woe.  Here  are  Ann  of 
Cleves,  one  of  the  wives  of  Henry  VHI.,  and 
Anne,  wife  of  Richard  HI.,  poisoned  by  her  royal 
husband. 

Among  these  immortal  names  you  might  smile, 
were  not  the  place  so  grandly  touching,  to  read 
on  the  pavement,  that  beneath  your  feet  lies  one 
w^io  threatened  to  rival  with  bodily  immortality 
the  intellectual  immortalitv  of  those  who  here 
surround  him.  It  is  the  grave  of  Thomas  Parr, 
who  lived  to  be  152  years  old;  he  saw  the 
successive  reigns  of  ten  kings,  from  Edward  IV. 
to  Charles  I.  inclusive,  and  died  A.  D.    1635. 

It  is  hard  to  tear  one's  self  away  from  the  Poet's 
Corner,  but  you  cease  not  to  hear  in  aisle  and 
chapel  a  voice  crying  to  you  to  "  put  off  the  shoes 
from  your  feet  for  the  ground  is  holy,"  and  surely 
no  barefooted  pilgrim  ever  walked  in  greater 
humility  than  falls  upon  one  who  here  turns  back 
the  leaves  of  centuries  and  sees  how  few  lines  and 
how  small  a  space  suffice  to  tell  the  grandest 
stories  of  human  greatness. 

The  north  transept,  exactly  opposite  the  Poet's 
Corner,  offers  the  greatest  possible  contrast  in  its 
colossal  and  magnificent  monuments.  Here  lie, 
with  many  others.  Lord  Mansfield,  Chatham,  Fox, 
Pitt,  Castlereagh,  Canning,  Wilberforce  and  Grat- 
tan  ;  the  monuments  of  the  first  four,  especially, 
are  wonderful  in  size,  desiorn  and  elaborate  detail. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  97 

Here,  too,  a  splendid  statue  of  Lord  Palmerston, 
in  his  robes  of  office,  seems  to  have  arisen  from 
beneath  the  slab  of  Aberdeen  marble  in  the  pave- 
ment covering  the  remains  of  Lord  and  Lady 
Palmerston.  The  whole  length  of  the  abbey, 
including  the  chapel  of  Henry  Mil.,  is  511  feet 
and  from  the-  latter  place  the  eye  can  follow  the 
beautiful  lines  of  the  arched  roof  from  one  end 
to  the  other ;  the  floor  is  divided  by  elaborate 
screens  into  the  nave  166  feet  in  length,  and,  with 
its  two  aisles,  71  feet  in  width;  the  choir,  155  feet; 
the  chapel  of  Edward  the  Confessor  and  the  chapel 
of  Henry  VH,,  103  feet  in  leno^th  by  70  feet  in 
width.  In  the  nave,  on  one  of  the  pilasters  of  the 
organ  screen  separating  the  nave  from  the  choir,  is 
the  monument  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton.  It  represents 
him  in  a  half-recumbent  position,  his  arm  resting 
on  four  folios  ;  above  him  a  globe,  on  which  sits  a 
female  figure  representing  Astronomy;  underneath 
are  bas-reliefs  showing  his  various  philosophical 
labors,  one  representing  the  weighing  of  the  sun 
by  a  scale,  on  one  end  of  which  hangs  the  sun, 
balanced  at  the  other  end  by  the  seven  planets. 

Near  the  center  of  this  nave  a  wreath,  of  which 
you  see  several  scattered  on  the  pavement, 
marking  here  and  there  the  visit  of  thoughtful 
friends,  attracted  our  attention  to  a  stone  quite 
covered  with  inscriptions.  This  is  the  grave  of 
Livingstone,  the  African  traveler. 


98  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

The  shorter  end  of  the  cross  outh'ning  West- 
minster Abbey  is  occupied  by  the  chapel  conse- 
crated to  the  tomb  or  shrine  of  St,  Edward  the 
Confessor,  and  four  small  chapels  around  it.  A 
dilapidated  but  very  curious  screen  separates  this 
chapel  from  the  altar  ;  the  screen  is  fourteen  feet 
high  by  thirty-eight  feet  in  length,  having  a  frieze 
of  equal  length,  in  which  are  sculptured  fourteen 
different  scenes  representing  as  many  events  of 
St.  Edward's  life. 

Against  this  screen  stand  the  coronation  chairs; 
homely,  straight-backed,  uncon-ifortable,  wooden 
chairs  from  which  all  sign  of  ornament  has 
disappeared;  they  are  probably  about  600  years 
old.  At  the  ceremony  of  coronation  they  are 
placed  before  the  altar.  Under  the  seat  of  one  of 
them  is  hung  the  famous  stone  of  Scone,  a  common- 
looking  piece  of  stone  twenty-six  inches  long, 
seventeen  wide,  and  ten  thick.  The  use  of  a  stone 
as  a  coronation  seat  seems  to  have  been  a  most 
ancient  custom,  originating  in  the  East ;  but  when 
this  stone  first  served  the  purpose  is  unknown. 
For  centuries  the  superstition  existed  that  wher- 
ever it  was  placed,  there  the  Scottish  race  would 
reign.  About  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  century 
Edward  I.  took  it  by  force  from  the  castle  of 
Scone,  Scotland,  where  it  had  been  for  more  than 
400  years,  and  placed  it  in  its  present  position. 
It  is  said — a  not  incredible  storv — that  it  was  first 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  99 

sent  to  Scotland  for  the  coronation  of  Fergus,  the 
first  Kinor  of  Scotland  descended  from  the  blood- 
royal  of  Ireland.  He  was  crowned  B.  C.  330. 
The  Irish  called  it  "  The  Stone  of  Fate,"  and 
kept  it  in  the  royal  palace  at  Tara,  In  that  country 
there  was  a  superstition  that  if  the  right  heir  to 
the  crown  seated  himself  upon  it  for  coronation, 
from  it  would  issue  a  sound  resembling  thunder  ; 
otherwise  it  remained  silent. 

The  Irish  chronicles  give  its  history  as  having 
been  brought  from  Egypt  to  Spain  and  thence  to 
Ireland,  and,  moreover,  tell  us  that  it  is  the  very 
stone  on  which  Jacob  rested  his  head  during  the 
dream  in  which  he  saw  angels  ascendinof  and 
descending  between  heaven  and  earth. 

Beyond  the  chapel  of  St.  Edward  the  abbey 
has  been  lengthened  by  the  addition  of  the  chapel 
of  Henry  VII.,  begun  by  him  in  1503  and  un- 
finished at  his  death.  It  was  this  Henry  who 
would  fain  have  made  arrangements  to  have,  "so 
long  as  the  world  should  last,"  three  masses  said 
daily  for  his  soul.  This  chapel  consists  of  a  nave 
and  two  aisles,  the  latter  divided  into  several 
parts,  and  here  it  is  that  the  royal  mausoleums  are 
for  the  most  part  found.  The  principal  part  of 
the  nave  was  devoted,  at  some  unknown  date,  to 
the  ceremony  of  the  installation  of  the  Knights 
of  the  Bath,  and  here  are  still  suspended  on  high 
their  banners,  faded  and  dropping  to  pieces  with 


lOO  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

age.  This  chapel  could  hardly  be  excelled  in 
elaborateness  and  beauty  of  architecture  ;  the 
main  roof  is  an  arch  of  ponderous  masses  of  stone 
suspended  in  the  air  ;  they  are  cut  in  the  form  of 
conical  pendants,  of  which  there  are  three  rows 
extending  from  one  end  of  the  arched  roof  to  the 
other  ;  these  pendants  of  stone  are  so  exquisitely 
and  hnely  carved  that  they  look  like  fine  embroid- 
eries of  some  delicate,  lace-like  material,  or,  as 
Washington  Irving  says,  they  have  the  wonderful 
minuteness  and  airy  security  of  a  cobweb.  From 
fioor  to  ceilinof  nothino-  is  to  be  seen  but  the  rarest 
and  richest  of  sculptured  decorations.  The 
columns,  separating  nave  from  aisles,  form  arches, 
above  which,  extending  completely  around  the 
chapel,  is  a  range  of  angels  variously  draped, 
supporting  with  uplifted  hands  floral  designs; 
above  these  anirels  is  another  row  of  statues  about 
three  feet  in  height,  each  occupying  its  own 
niche,  the  niches  being  separated  by  the  richest 
of  sculpturing.  On  each  side  of  the  nave,  raised 
some  four  or  five  feet  from  the  ground  and  over- 
hung by  carved  wooden  canopies  reaching  to  the 
sculptured  stone  above,  are  the  stalls  of  the 
knights,  and  below  and  in  front  of  these,  the 
seats  of  their  esquires.  These  stalls  and  seats 
bear  among  their  carvings  of  angels,  saints, 
heroes,  oak  branches,  etc.,  many  grotesque 
carvings  also.      Here  are  bacchanalians,   dragons, 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  lOI 

fiery  monsters,  a  bear  playing;  on  a  bagpipe,  a 
mermaid  with  mirror  and  comb,  inOnkeys  perform- 
ing various  antics,  a  hog  pJalying/ p?i;  a  ■  flute, 
the  devil  carrying  off  a  monk  on  his  shoulders  ; 
the  whole  story  of  the  judgment  of  Solomon, 
showing  the  exchanging  of  the  dead  child,  the 
women  quarreling,  the  executioner  about  to  cleave 
the  child  in  two,  etc.;  no  two  specimens  of  carving 
alike,  yet  all  symmetrical  and  of  the  most  exquisite 
workmanship.  The  eye  can  hardly  rest  on  a  spot 
unadorned  by  the  artist's  skill. 

Underneath  the  marble  floor  is  a  royal  vault; 
the  names  of  those  who  have  here  descended  to 
that  throne  from  which  no  reverse  can  drive  them, 
are  plainly  and  simply  cut  in  the  pavement. 

It  would  be  the  work  of  days  or  weeks  to  study 
the  monuments  to  royalty  in  the  chapel  of  Henry 
VII.;  but  to  lovers  of  the  romance  of  history, 
none  perhaps  will  be  more  attractive  than  those 
of  Queen  Elizabeth  and  of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots, 
the  former  in  the  north  aisle,  the  latter,  in  the 
south;  both  were  erected  by  James  I.,  who  has 
made  that  of  his  mother  the  more  imposing  of  the 
two.  Her  remains  were  privately  brought  here 
by  him  from  the  place  where  they  were  deposited 
after  her  execution,  and  placed  under  this  monu- 
ment. Elizabeth  and  her  sister,  Bloody  Mary, 
Protestant  and  Catholic,  are  the  sole  tenants  of  a 
single  grave  near  the  monument    of    Elizabeth. 


I02  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

For  Mary,  Oiieen  of  Scots,  a  recumbent  statue 
rests  upon -a'"  sartophagus  of  marble,  surmounted 
by  -a  eitiopy'*  supported  by  eight  lofty,  marble 
pillars  ;  her  head  rests  on  two  embroidered 
cushions,  hands  raised  as  if  in  prayer,  head 
covered  by  a  close  coif,  round  her  neck  a  plaited 
ruff,  a  mantle  lined  with  ermine,  high-heeled  shoes, 
and  at  her  feet  the  Scottish  lion,  crowned.  That 
of  her  executioner,  Elizabeth,  though  less  grand, 
is  somewhat  similar ;  her  features  are  those  of 
advanced  years,  she  is  richly  dressed,  decorated 
with  jewels,  the  Order  of  the  Garter  around  her 
neck. 

From  Westminster  Abbey  one  carries  with  him 
the  memory  of  a  mental  experience  bathed  in  a 
sacred  baptismal  flood  of  feeling,  yet  not  all 
untinged  with  regret  that  it  is  not  wholly  con- 
secrated to  the  ashes  of  the  nobly  good  or  the 
irreproachably  great.  One  would  that  there  were 
no  tinge  of  truth  in  the  sarcasm  of  Sir  Godfrey 
Kneller — the  only  painter,  I  believe,  who  has  a 
monument  in  this  abbey.  On  his  death-bed  he 
sent  for  his  friend  Pope  and  declared  to  him 
with  an  oath  that  he  would  not  be  buried  in 
Westminster  Abbey.  "  Why .?"  said  Pope.  "Be- 
cause they  do  bury  fools  there,"  was  his  reply. 

But  even  intruded  upon  as  it  is  by  unworthy 
ashes  and  undeserved  memorials,  it  is  a  spot  of 
such  peculiar  associations  that  we   would   not,   if 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  IO3 

we  could,  find  its  like  elsewhere  in  the  world,  and 
we  pass  out  through  its  portals  into  the  world 
from  which  we  have  been  for  a  while  so  completely 
withdrawn,  feeling  that  all  our  future  years  are 
enriched  by  the  memory  of  the  hours  spent  in 
Westminster  Abbey. 

London,  January,  1875. 


I04 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


IX. 


THE  TOWER  OF  LONDON. 


ANY  of  the  interesting  buildings  of 
,  London,  which  are  not  always  open 
free  to  the  public,  are  so  on  certain 
days  of  the  week,  and  it  is  a  pleasant  sight  to  meet 
in  these  grand  old  places,  museums  and  galleries 
of  art,  persons  of  every  age  and  every  class.  I 
recall  with  a  smile  a  group  of  the  raggedest  little 
urchins  that  were  ever  seen,  making  such  a  bee- 
line  for  the  collection  of  monkeys  in  the  British 
Museum  as  showed  it  was  not  their  first  visit. 
Aofain,  a  middle-ao^ed  man  hands  and  face  stained 
with  the  ineffaceable  grime  of  toil,  and  surrounded 
by  a  half-grown  family,  all  clasping  hands,  as, 
gaping  with  wonder,  they  walked  along  the  aisles 
of  St.  Paul's,  enjoying  his  scant  holiday. 

Thus  London  is  elevating  the  English  race,  and 
not  by  her  noble  buildings  only,  but  by  all  other 
educational  means.  There  is  almost  no  limit 
to  the  number  and  variety  of  libraries,  evening 
schools  and  schools  of  art,  opening  their  doors  at 
such  hours  as  the  laboring  man,  woman  or  youth, 
can   alone  devote  to  self-improvement ;  and  this 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  IO5 

either  free  or  at  a  mere  nominal  price,  either 
supported  by  Government,  or  founded  by  some 
of  those  thoughtful  men  who,  living  or  dying,  have 
made  the  poor  partakers  of  those  immense  fortunes 
so  comparatively  common  in  England,  and  which 
elsewhere  would  excite  much  greater  surprise. 

This  winter  the  London  population  has  risen  en 
masse  to  petition  that  the  British  Museum  be 
opened  on  Sundays  ;  it  is  said  that  many  would 
be  glad  to  visit  it  instead  of  spending  their  only 
leisure  day  in  places  of  degrading  influence,  and 
that  the  only  way  to  reform  people  is  first  to  pro- 
vide for  them  some  other  pleasure  to  take  the  place 
of  indulgences  you  would  induce  them  to  abandon. 
It  is  proposed  to  overcome  the  objection  liable  to 
be  raised  by  employees  against  working  on  the 
Sabbath  by  appointing  a  corps  of  Jews  as  custo- 
dians on  that  day. 

The  free  days  are  the  most  satisfactory  for  visit- 
ing, although  it  may  be  well  to  first  make  the 
hurried  round  with  the  guide  and  "get  the  hang" 
of  the  place.  On  these  days  I  have  always  found 
the  attendants  unusually  ready  to  converse,  and 
then  you  are  at  liberty  to  roam  around  by  your- 
self, to  linger  as  long  as  you  please,  either  curiously 
to  examine  architecture,  paintings,  etc.,  or  to 
yield  yourself  to  the  spell  of  historical  association 
and  bring  to  the  surface  of  your  thought  long- 
forgotten  facts.     On  pay-days  you  are  locked  out 


iq6  letters  of  travel. 

from  many  parts  of  the  building,  and  when 
introduced  within  the  closed  doors  by  the  guide, 
you  have  only  time  for  a  hurried  glance,  for  he 
must  return  to  serve  the  next  party. 

In  response  to  the  people's  request  that  the 
Tower  be  opened  to  them,  Parliament  has  granted 
two  public  days  each  week,  but  the  days  had  not 
been  fixed  upon  at  the  time  of  our  visit;  however, 
we  were  accompanied  by  an  excellent  guide,  who 
was  really  animated  in  repeating  his  oft-told 
tale. 

Approaching  London  Tower  one  sees  such  a 
mass  of  buildino^s  that  he  thinks  London  Towers 
would  be  a  more  appropriate  name.  The  whole 
fortifications  consist  of  a  deep  moat  about  one 
hundred  and  twenty  feet  in  width,  an  outer  wall 
and  an  inner  wall  inclosing  a  central  court  and  its 
buildings  ;  the  exterior  measurement  of  the  moat 
is  about  half  a  mile  ;  the  outer  wall  incloses  a 
space  nearly  square,  of  thirteen  acres.  The  moat 
was  intended  to  be  filled  by  the  water  of  the 
Thames,  on  the  banks  of  which,  about  half  a  mile 
below  London  Bridge,  the  fortifications  are  built. 
A  raised  wharf  intervenes  on  the  south  between 
the  moat  and  the  river.  Both  walls  are  fortified 
by  towers,  and  are  separated  by  a  narrow  street ; 
the  inner  wall  is  twelve  feet  thick,  over  forty  feet 
high,  and  has  twelve  towers,  most  of  which  have 
served  principally  as  prisons  for  illustrious  persons. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  lOj 

The  most  interesting  tower  of  the  outer  wall 
is  that  of  St.  Thomas,  built  over  the  moat. 
Under  it  is  the  Traitor's  Gate,  with  its  steps 
leading  upward  from  the  river.  State  prisoners 
were  usually  brought  to  the  Tower  by  this 
entrance.  This  gate-way  is  no  longer  used  ;  but 
as  you  stand  looking  down  its  gloomy  arch  the 
guide  will  probably  tell  you  that  when  Elizabeth, 
then  Princess,  was  sent  here  a  prisoner  by  order 
of  her  sister,  Queen  Mary,  she  refused,  until 
threatened  with  force,  to  enter  through  the 
Traitor's  Gate,  indignantly  asserting  her  loyalty 
as  she  ascended  the  steps.  At  the  top  she  sat 
down  and  would  go  no  further,  saying,  "  Better 
sit  here  than  in  a  worse  place,  for  God  knoweth, 
not  I,  whither  you  will  bring  me."  Perhaps  she 
then  remembered  her  mother  who,  seeing 
death  at  the  end  of  this  fatal  entrance,  fell  on  her 
knees  beneath  its  arch  and  prayed  God,  as  she 
was  innocent,  to  defend  her.  The  towers  of  the 
inner  wall  are  closed  to  visitors,  who  thus  fail  to 
read  with  their  own  eyes,  inscribed  on  stone  less 
hard  than  the  hearts  of  kings,  the  last  thoughts  of 
many  who  have  earned  forgiveness  through 
suffering,  or  have  hallowed  history  by  their  noble 
deaths. 

As  we  pass  along,  the  guide  tells  us  the  names 
of  the  towers,  and  points  out  which  were  the 
particular  prisons  of  certain  celebrated  persons. 


I08  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

We  next  come  to  the  only  opening  by  which 
the  inner  wall  is  pierced  ;  it  is  an  arched  entrance 
under  the  Bloody  Tower,  the  scene  of  the  murder 
of  his  two  nephews  by  Richard  III.  This  arch  is 
thirty-four  feet  long  and  fifteen  feet  wide.  Over- 
head you  see  the  openings,  provided  in  ancient 
times,  for  pouring  down  death  upon  the  heads  of 
any  enemy  attempting  to  enter. 

We  now  stand  in  the  hollow  square  inclosed 
within  the  walls.  In  its  center  is  the  White 
Tower,  built  by  William  the  Conqueror,  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  eleventh  century,  although 
the  history  of  the  spot  as  a  fort  for  the  protection 
of  the  city  runs  back  to  an  uncertain  period,  far 
earlier  than  the  time  of  the  Norman  ;  old  writers 
give  us  its  traditions  from  the  time  of  Julius 
Csesar,  and  Fitz-Stephen,  who  died  in  1191, 
describes  it  as  a  building  "whose  mortar  is 
tempered  by  the  blood  of  beasts  ; ".  he  might  now 
add,   and  its  soil  watered  by  the  blood  of  kings. 

Besides  the  White  Tower  there  are  several 
other  buildings  in  this  central  court,  viz.:  barracks 
for  soldiers,  a  military  store-house,  the  horse 
armory  and  guard-house  built  against  two  sides  of 
the  White  Tower,  St.  Peter's  chapel  and  the 
jewel-house. 

St.  Peter's  chapel,  built  six  hundred  years  ago 
on  the  site  of  another,  its  predecessor  by  three 
hundred  years,   is   not   open    to   visitors,    though 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  I OQ 

from  a  little  spot  now  inclosed  and  quite  near  its 
walls,  many  a  noble  head  has  rolled  from  its  life- 
less trunk,  here  to  pillow  itself  under  an  unmarked 
tomb.  St.  Peter's  vaults  contain  the  remains  of 
Anne  Boleyn  and  of  Lady  Jane  Grey,  of  the  Duke 
of  Norfolk  and  of  the  Earl  of  Essex  ;  here  was 
buried  Sir  Thomas  More,  and  here  are  said  to  be 
the  bones  of  Cromwell  ;  here,  too,  lies  the  Duke 
of  Monmouth,  natural  son  of  Charles  II.,  of 
whose  execution  we  have  the  sickening  story  that 
only  at  the  fifth  stroke  did  the  headsman's  ax 
descend  with  sufficient  force  to  deprive  the  royal 
Duke  of  consciousness. 

The  first  building  we  enter  is  the  Horse 
Armory,  150  feet  long  and  34  feet  wide.  Along 
its  whole  length  runs  a  line  of  alcoves,  each  of 
which  bears  the  arms  of  the  royal  family  it  repre- 
sents and  the  name  of  the  sovereign  in  whose 
reign  the  armor  and  instruments  of  war  in  the 
alcove  were  used.  All  is  arranged  in  chronolog- 
ical order.  In  the  center  of  each  alcove  is  a 
mounted  warrior,  horse  and  rider  both  clad  in 
armor  which  is  of  chain  or  of  plate  and  sometimes 
a  combination  of  both.  Some  of  the  armor  is 
exceedingly  rich,  almost  covered  with  the  gold 
that  is  so  finely  inwrought.  Many  of  the  suits  of 
armor  have  been  made  for,  and  worn  by,  different 
kings  and  nobles  known  as  their  owners.  There 
are  also  smaller  suits  made  for  certain  royal  princes 


no  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

from  five  to  ten  years  of  age.  Not  only  is  there 
armor,  but  helmets,  swords  and  weapons  from 
every  age  and  country.  The  contents  of  the 
gallery  above  this  are  as  varied  as  those  below — 
trophies  and  curiosities  without  number.  Among 
other  things  is  a  glass  case  in  which  is  preserved 
the  cloak  on  which  General  Wolfe  was  carried 
from  the  midst  of  the  battle  on  the  plains  of 
Abraham  at  Quebec,  to  a  little  hollow  a  few  rods 
distant,  where,  a  few  months  ago,  we  had  stood 
before  the  monument  erected  on  the  very  spot  of 
his  death,  from  which  this  cloak  had  been  rever- 
ently borne. 

From  the  Horse  Armory  we  pass  into  the  main 
building.  The  White  Tower  is  a  quadrangular 
structure  1 16  feet  long,  96  feet  wide,  92  feet  high  ; 
at  each  angle  of  its  roof  rises  a  watch-tower  or 
turret  ;  it  is  three  stories  high  with  basement,  and 
its  walls  are  15  feet  thick.  Formerly  the  royal 
palace,  as  well  as  fort  and  prison,  it  is  now  a  large 
armory,  in  which,  besides  many  curious  and 
ancient  specimens  of  weapons  of  war  and  other 
curiosities,  were  ranged  nearly  100,000  stands  of 
modern  arms  ready  for  use. 

The  first  apartment  we  enter  is  called  Queen 
Elizabeth's  Armory  ;  in  an  alcove  at  the  extremity 
of  this  room  is  an  equestrian  figure  of  Her  Majesty, 
representing  her  dressed  as  she  is  supposed  to 
have  been  when  she  went  in  procession  to  celebrate 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  I  I  I 

at  St.  Paul's  the  defeat  of  the  Spanish  Armada  ; 
a  page  wearing  the  dress  of  her  period  stands  at 
her  horse's  head,  and  on  the  wall  behind  her  is  a 
painting  of  the  former  St.  Paul's  Cathedral.  This 
room  is  said  to  have  been  the  place  of  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh's  imprisonment  ;  two  dark  cells  which  it 
almost  smothers  one  to  remain  in  for  a  minute,  are 
shown  as  the  sleeping  apartments  of  himself  and 
companions  ;  since  his  time  the  large  room  has 
been  lighted  with  windows  instead  of  loop-holes, 
and  its  interior  mostly  rebuilt,  but  the  inscriptions 
on  the  walls  by  former  prisoners  have  been  care- 
fully preserved. 

In  this  room  we  find  various  instruments  of 
torture,  and  here,  too,  is  the  block  on  which  Anne 
Boleyn  and  Lady  Jane  Grey  laid  their  queenly 
young  heads — followed  by  the  Earl  of  Essex  and 
others — under  the  ax  whose  bloody  history  sickens 
us  as  we  look  at  it. 

The  Block,  of  hard  wood  almost  black  in  color, 
is  some  two  and  a  half  feet  high,  two-thirds  as 
wide  and  half  as  thick ;  its  upper  surface  is 
hollowed  on  one  edge  to  receive  the  neck  as  the 
kneeling  victim  bends  before  fate  and  death. 

From  Queen  Elizabeth's  Armory  we  ascend 
into  the  Royal  Chapel  ;  it  is  quite  empty,  long 
since  stripped  of  ornament  and  religious  ceremony, 
but  its  double  row  of  Norman  arches,  one  above 
the  other,  delights  the  eye  with  their  beauty.     As 


1  I  2  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

we  mount  the  narrow  stairway  a  brass  plate  In  the 
wall  indicates  to  us  the  steps  under  which,  two 
hundred  years  after  Richard  III.  had  hidden  away 
the  dead  bodies  of  his  nephews,  some  workmen 
makincr  repairs  found  the  bones  of  two  bodies 
corresponding  to  their  ages — eight  and  twelve 
years.  The  bones  were  interred  by  Charles  II. 
at  Westminster  Abbey  In  the  chapel  of  Henry 
VII. 

We  now  pass  Into  galleries  filled  principally 
with  modern  arms,  and  here  we  admire  the  curious 
decorations  of  the  walls.  There  are  various 
devices  all  formed  entirely  of  swords  straight  and 
curved,  ramrods,  caps  and  other  parts  of  arms. 
These  are  arranged  mostly  in  the  form  of  flowers, 
some  of  them  being  from  eight  to  ten  feet  in 
diameter. 

There  are  several  varieties  of  the  lily,  sun- 
flowers, fuchsias,  etc.,  the  three  feathers  of  the 
crest  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  other  royal 
insignia. 

The  last  room  we  enter  is  the  upper  story,  the 
former  Council  Chamber,  and  the  scene  of  many 
of  the  most  important  events  In  English  history. 
In  this  room  Richard  II.  received  the  deputation 
from  Parliament  who  came  to  demand  of  him  his 
abdication  in  favor  of  his  cousin  Henry  Boling- 
broke.  First  requesting  a  private  Interview  with 
the  latter,  the   King  then  re-entered  the  Council 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  I  1 3 

Chamber,  dressed  in  his  robes  of  State,  the  crown 
upon  his  head,  the  scepter  in  his  hand.  Of  these 
he  then  formally  unclad  himself,  and  gave  them 
into  the  hands  of  his  successor  Henry  IV. 

"  I  give  this  heavy  weight  from  off  my  head, 
And  this  unwieldy  scepter  from  my  hand, 
The  pride  of  kingly  sway  from  out  my  heart, 
With  mine  own  tears  I  wash  away  my  balm, 
With  mine  own  hands  I  give  away  my  crown, 
With  mine  own  tongue  deny  my  sacred  state." 

Here,  too,  was  the  tragic  scene  of  the  condemna- 
tion of  Lord  Hastings,  seized,  tried,  dragged  down 
the  Tower  stairs  and  beheaded,  all  within  one 
hour,  and  all  because  he  defended  the  throne  from 
the  usurper. 

We  descend  and  cross  the  court  to  the  jewel- 
house.  Here  are  displayed  five  crowns  all  rep- 
resented as  set  with  precious  stones  except  that  of 
the  Prince  of  Wales  ;  his  crown  of  pure  gold  is 
placed  before  his  chair  beside  the  throne  when  he 
visits  the  House  of  Lords.  There  are  also  half  a 
dozen  scepters,  of  which  St.  Edward's  staff,  carried 
before  the  sovereign  at  coronations,  is  golden, 
four  and  a  half  feet  long  ;  the  swords  of  mercy 
and  justice,  and  the  gold  communion  service  and 
anointinof  vessels  for  the  consecration  of  the  new 
sovereign  ;  also  a  font  of  gold  for  the  christening 
of  the  royal  children.  Instead  of  the  Koh-i-noor 
there  was  merely  2i  fac-siniile  of  it  in  glass.  An 
old  woman  had  charge  of  the  jewel-room,  and  one 


I  1 4  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

soldier  kept  g-uard  outside  the  door.  It  seemed  as 
if  by  the  aid  of  chloroform  a  second  attempt  like 
that  of  Colonel  Blood  might  not  be  unsuccessful. 
Blood,  disguised  in  the  character  of  a  parson,  won 
the  favor  of  the  keeper's  family,  and  pretended  to 
wish  to  marry  his  nephew  to  the  daughter.  An 
interview  between  the  two  was  appointed,  to 
which  Blood  came  accompanied  by  some  friends. 
Remaining  with  the  latter  to  examine  the  jewels, 
they  overthrew  the  old  man,  and  were  having 
things  their  own  way  until  disturbed  by  the 
entrance  of  the  keeper's  long-absent  son,  just 
returned  from  Flanders.  Blood  escaped,  actually 
carrying  away  the  Royal  Crown  under  his  cloak  ; 
pursued,  he  was  overtaken  when  he  exclaimed  : 
"  'T  was  a  gallant  attempt ;  it  was  for  a  crown." 
The  end  of  the  affair  is  its  strangest  part ;  whether 
influenced  by  fear  of  Blood's  desperate  accom- 
plices, or  beguiled  by  his  audacious  flattery,  the 
King,  instead  of  punishing  Blood,  took  him  into 
his  favor,  and  no  petitions  were  so  certain  of  suc- 
cess as  those  presented  through  Blood.  A  poet  of 
the  time  thus  expresses  the  general  indignation  : 

"  Since  loy.alty  does  no  man  good, 
Let's  steal  the  King  and  outdo  Blood." 

We  pass  again  into  the  court  and  stand  upon  one 
of  the  most  solemn  spots  of  English  soil,  a  few  feet 
of  ground  near  St.  Peter's  Chapel,  where,  genera- 
tion after  generation,  was  wont  to  flow  the  noblest 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  I  I  5 

blood  of  England's  aristocracy,  freely  mingled  with 
that  of  royalty.  This  is  Tower  Green.  To  this 
spot  walked  so  bravely  Lady  Jane  Grey,  the  ten 
days'  Queen,  calm  amid  the  sobs  of  her  attend- 
ants. On  her  way  from  the  Tower  to  the  Green 
she  met  the  headless  corpse  of  her  husband  being 
carried  away  on  a  cart.  Arriving  at  the  bloody 
spot  she  asks  the  prayers  of  the  bystanders,  kneels, 
and  repeats  a  psalm,  arranges  her  dress,  and  her- 
self bandages  her  eyes  ;  the  executioner  begs  her 
forgiveness  for  what  he  is  about  to  do  ;  she 
whispers  her  pardon.  A  friendly  hand  guides  her 
to  the  block,  which  she,  blinded,  vainly  gropes  for. 
Kneeling,  she  exclaims  :  "  Lord,  into  Thy  hands 
I  commend  my  spirit" — and  all  is  over. 

Here,  in  beauty  as  brilliant  on  the  day  of  her 
execution  as  on  that  of  her  coronation  less  than 
three  years  before,  Anne  Boleyn  paid  the  penalty 
of  her  ambition  and  was  hurriedly  hid  away  from 
the  world's  sight  and  her  husband's  memory. 
Here  this  same  Henry  put  to  death  the  Marchion- 
ess of  Salisbury,  nearly  eighty  years  of  age  ;  the 
proud  old  gentlewoman  refused  to  lay  her  head 
upon  the  block,  declaring  she  was  no  traitor,  and 
the  executioner  actually  beat  her  to  death  as  he 
followed  her  around  the  block. 

Thrilled  and  sickened  by  the  associations  of 
this  little  spot  of  earth,  we  leave  London  Tower, 
with  its  eight  centuries  of  history  and  nearly  two 


Il6  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

thousand  years  of  tradition  ;  for  five  centuries 
the  alternate  palace  and  prison  of  England's 
sovereigns  ;  as  a  palace,  more  ancient  by  four 
hundred  years  than  any  other  in  Europe  ;  as  a 
prison,  equaled  only  by  that  of  St.  Angela  at 
Rome  ;  its  story  made  up  of  the  extremes  of 
splendor  and  woe,  of  courao;e  and  misfortune — a 
dizzy  scene  "  of  the  dance  of  Love  and  the  dance 
of  Death." 

London,  January,    1875. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  I  I  / 


X. 

THE  KNIGHTS  TEMPLAR  AND  THEIR  TEMPLE. 

T  is  one  of  the  traveler's  rarest  treats,  and 
a  pleasure  seldom  his,  to  arrive  accidentally 
in  some  curious  place,  to  whose  remarkable 
features  his  past  reading  furnishes  no  key  ;  in 
short,  where  he  finds  himself  surrounded  by 
mystery,  and  the  place  a  riddle.  Such  an  expe- 
rience was  one  day  mine  in  London.  Strolling 
leisurely  along  the  Strand  I  observe  a  woman 
disappear  within  a  low  arch  of  a  building,  and 
curiosity  prompts  me  to  follow.  At  the  end  of 
the  arch  I  find  myself  in  a  court  with  a  curious 
round  church,  the  narrow  green  at  its  side 
surrounded  by  high  buildings.  Still  intent  on 
following  the  fast-disappearing  figure,  I  pass 
through  a  narrower  and  lower  arch  beneath  other 
buildings,  and  so  continue  through  several  plain 
brick  courts  and  arched  passage-ways,  until  I 
arrive  at  a  building  which  I  do  not  doubt  to  be 
another  church.  When  just  about  to  enter  it,  my 
eye  falls  on  a  notice  that  none  but  members  are 
allowed  to  dine  within,  I  turn  away  and  soon 
come    upon   another    building    which    looks  like 


I  I  8  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

a  church,  but  having  lost  confidence  in  my 
judgment  of  sacred  buildings,  I  think  it  safer  to 
call  this,  too,  a  banqueting-hall.  I  am  now  in  a 
large  court  with  trees,  a  fountain,  seats  and  lawn  ; 
on  three  sides  are  high,  brick  buildings,  and  on 
each  building  a  large  sun-dial  of  wood,  that,  with 
ground  of  black  or  of  blue,  and  hours  and  inscrip- 
tions lettered  in  gold,  indicate  them  to  be  modern 
substitutes  for  more  ancient  dials  ;  each  different 
sun-dial  bears  its  own  Latin  motto,  and,  by  the 
way,  it  is  to  me  a  matter  of  the  greatest  surprise 
that  such  a  prudent,  practical  people  as  the  English 
should  be  so  lavish  of  sun-dials,  where  sunshine  is 
so  scarce  ;  the  fourth  side  stretches  towards  the 
embankment  of  the  Thames,  and  then  spreads 
out  into  grounds  which,  though  by  no  means 
destitute  of  flowers,  are  rather  a  field  than  a 
garden. 

All  this  lay  spread  out  under  the  solemn 
sunlight  of  the  declining  year— for  the  sun  did 
shine  that  day — and  bathed  in  a  strange  air  of 
quietude.  Was  it  by  magic  that  in  three  minutes 
I  had  been  transported  from  the  busiest  scenes  of 
busy  London  to  this  spot  so  undisturbed  by  the 
commotion  of  life,  where  old  age,  sunning  itself, 
might  prepare  for  its  inheritance  of  eternal  peace 
singing  with  the  poet, 

"  As  I  come 
I  tunc  my  instrument  here  at  the  door, 
And  what  I  must  do  there,  think  here  before  ?  " 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  I  I  9 

Awhile  I  sit  here  alone  enjoying  this  remarkable 
solitude  in  London,  and  questioning  all  around  me  ; 
but  neither  the  sun-dials  staring  down  upon  me, 
nor  their  solemn  monitions  in  a  dead  tongue,  nor 
ancient  banqueling-hall,  with  curious  roof  and  rich 
windows,  nor  the  frequent  emblem  of  the  lamb, 
nor  the  exquisite  modern  stone  building — the 
library — still  farther  towards  the  river,  deign  to 
reply,  and  I  am  forced  to  seek  imformation  from  a 
pale  invalid  who  seats  herself  beside  me,  seeking 
here  a  little  bit  of  fresh  air  and  sunshine,  of  which 
there  was  so  little  on  hand  when  this  part  of  the 
world  was  made.  Her  answer  is,  "This  is 
Temple  Gardens."  I  have  often  wondered  what 
kind  of  a  place  the  Temple  Buddings  and  Temple 
Gardens  might  be,  for  scarcely  one  novel  of 
London  life  have  I  ever  read  that  did  not  contain 
some  reference  to  this  locality  ;  wonder  is  now 
satisfied,  and  I  have  only  to  gaze. 

The  Strand  is  one  of  the  principal  business 
streets  of  London.  As  its  name  implies,  it  follows 
the  course  of  the  Thames,  and  there  is  not  a  very 
wide  space  between  the  two  ;  it  extends  from  near 
the  heart  of  the  city  of  London  toward  West- 
minster, formerly  a  separate  city;  the  dividing  line 
between  London  and  Westminster  is  Temple  Bar, 
a  stone  gateway  built  across  the  Strand,  propped 
up  at  the  present  time  by  wooden  supports,  and 
under  whose  arch  all  teams  are  required  to  slacken 


I20  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

their  speed  to  a  walk  ;  it  will  probably  soon  be 
removed,  on  account  of  its  insecurity.  The 
Temple  Buildings  are  near  Temple  Bar  and 
between  the  Strand  and  the  Thames  ;  they  are 
occupied  by  lawyers  as  chambers  and  offices. 

Early  in  the  twelfth  century,  nine  knights, 
pitying  the  outrages  to  which  were  subjected  the 
Christian  pilgrims  to  Jerusalem,  which  city  had 
been  recently  captured  from  the  Mahometans, 
agreed  to  unite  and  devote  their  lives  and  fortunes 
to  the  defense  of  the  highways  leading  to  Jeru- 
salem, and  to  the  protection  of  Christian  travelers 
from  Saracen  attack.  They  were  lodged  by  the 
heads  of  the  Church  within  the  temple  on  Mount 
Moriah,  and  though  at  first  calling  themselves 
"  Poor  fellow-soldiers  of  Jesus  Christ,"  were  soon 
known  as  the  "  Knighthood  of  the  Temple  of 
Solomon."  Rapidly  increasing  in  numbers  and 
wealth,  they  enlarged  their  sphere  of  action,  and 
no  longer  limiting  themselves  to  defending  the 
roads  leading  to  Jerusalem,  avowed  the  object  of 
their  labors  to  be  the  defense  of  all  Christendom. 
Hugh  de  Payens  was  their  first  head  ;  with  the 
sanction  of  the  Pope,  he  traveled  through  Europe 
to  make  known  the  existence  and  object  of  the 
society,  and  to  increase  numbers  and  funds.  It 
was  in  1128  that  he  arrived  in  London,  where 
he  formally  established  the  first  temple,  now  no 
longer  existing  ;  soon  afterwards  he  returned  to 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  I  2  I 

Jerusalem,  accompanied  by  three  hundred  new 
brethren,  members  of  the  noblest  families  in 
Europe,  mostly  from  France  and  England  ;  all 
gave  their  whole  possessions  to  the  society. 

As  the  Order  in  England  increased  in  wealth, 
they  bought  the  site  of  the  present  buildings, 
which,  in  distinction  from  the  first,  became  known 
as  the  New  Temple.  Here  they  erected  a  church 
and  separate  residences  for  the  Master,  for  the 
Knights,  and  for  the  Chaplain,  as  well  as  for  the 
serving  brethren  and  domestics ;  also,  a  dining- 
hall,  and  a  chapter-house  in  which  to  hold  their 
meetings;  while  their  garden,  extending  along  the 
banks  of  the  Thames,  served  as  a  pleasure-ground 
for  themselves,  a  training-field  for  their  horses, 
and  for  their  own  military  exercises.  Their  differ- 
ent buildings  gave  rise  to  the  names  still  in  use — 
the  Outer  Temple,  the  Middle  Temple  and  the 
Inner  Temple. 

The  rules  of  the  house  were  drawn  up  by  St. 
Bernard,  and  in  1 1 72  Pope  Alexander  issued  a  bull 
in  their  favor.  Hugh  de  Payens,  on  his  departure, 
had  placed  a  Knight  at  the  head  of  the  institution 
in  England,  with  the  title  of  Prior  of  the  Temple; 
but  with  the  new  buildings  and  the  new  code 
of  laws,  the  head  of  the  house  was  known  as 
Master.  To  him  minor  provincial  institutions 
were  subject,  and  it  was  his  duty  to  visit  and 
inspect   them.     The   chief  head  of  the   Kni^-hts 


122  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

Templar  resided  at  Jerusalem,  and  was  known  as 
the  Grand  Master. 

The  Master  was  one  of  the  Templars,  elected 
by  themselves  in  Chapter  or  Assembly.  Only  a 
Knight,  or  the  son  of  a  Knight,  could  be  elected 
a  Templar ;  there  were,  however,  other  classes  in 
the  society  to  which  any  one  might  be  admitted  on 
condition  of  making  certain  vows,  and  bequeath- 
ing his  property  to  the  Order  ;  Pope  Innocent  III. 
was  such  a  member.  There  was  also  another  class 
in  which  children  were  educated  to  the  service 
of  the  Knights. 

A  Knight  applying  for  admission  to  the  society 
of  Templars,  had  first  to  declare  himself  free  from 
all  obligations ;  that  he  was  neither  married  nor 
betrothed  ;  that  he  belonged  to  no  other  religious 
order  ;  was  free  from  debt,  and  in  good  health. 
Introduced  into  the  assembly  he  knelt  before  the 
Master  and  prayed  to  be  accepted  as  the  servant 
and  slave  of  the  Order.  The  Master  would  then 
reply  to  him,  that  from  outward  appearances  he 
judged  it  a  matter  of  luxury  to  be  one  of  their 
number,  but  that  their  rules  were  most  rigorous. 
"It  is  a  hard  matter  for  you  who  are  your  own 
master  to  become  the  servant  of  another.  You 
will  hardly  be  able  to  perform  in  future  what  you 
yourself  wish  ;  when  you  would  sleep  you  will  be 
ordered  to  watch  ;  when  you  would  watch  you 
will  be  ordered  to  go  to  bed  ;  when  you  would  eat 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  I  23 

you  will  be  ordered  to  do  something  else."  After 
repeated  series  of  interrogations  and  many  vows, 
the  candidate  was  at  last  received  with  the  assur- 
ance of  "  bread  and  water,  the  poor  clothing  of  the 
Order,  and  labor  and  toil  enow."  The  Master  then 
placed  upon  him  the  garment  in  which  henceforth 
he  was  always  to  appear — ^a  white  mantle  with  the 
red  cross  upon  it.  Again  admonished  of  his  new 
duties,  among  which  were,  that  he  was  never, 
without  permission,  to  receive  attendance  from 
women,  that  he  was  never  to  kiss  any  woman,  not 
even  his  mother  or  sister ;  that  he  was  also  to 
sleep  in  prescribed  garments,  to  eat  in  silence, 
beginning  and  ending  each  meal  with  prayer,  and 
whenever  he  should  hear  of  the  Master's  death, 
wherever  he  might  be,  immediately  to  repeat  two 
hundred  paternosters  for  the  repose  of  his  soul. 
The  ceremony  concluded  by  his  receiving-  arms 
and  equipments,  three  horses  and  one  esquire  as 
attendant. 

Although  bound  to  such  strict  rules,  their  free 
and  roving  life  led  to  much  laxity  of  self-discipline, 
notwithstanding  which,  disobedience  was  punished 
with  extreme  severity.  There  still  exists  in  the 
solid  wall  of  the  temple  a  penitential  cell,  four  and 
a  half  feet  long  by  two  and  a  half  wide,  thus 
preventing  the  prisoner  from  extending  himself  at 
full  length  ;  therein,  sometimes  in  fetters,  penance 
and    confinement  were   enforced ;     imprisonment 


124  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

might  be  perpetual.  A  Knight  named  Valain- 
court  once  deserted  from  the  Order,  but  afterward 
returned,  offering  submission  to  any  penance  that 
might  be  ordered  ;  he  was  condemned  to  eat  for 
one  year  on  the  ground  with  the  dogs,  to  fast  four 
days  in  each  week  on  bread  and  water,  and  to  be 
pubHcly  scourged  every  Sunday  in  the  Temple 
before  the  whole  congregation. 

The  enormous  wealth  of  the  Order,  who 
possessed  not  less  than  nine  thousand  manors, 
and  whose  income  was  said  to  be  six  million 
pounds  sterling  per  annum,  was  undoubtedly 
the  cause  of  its  ruin.  Edward  II.,  of  England, 
was  very  willing  to  follow  the  lead  of  Philip  the 
Fair,  of  France,  and  by  the  sanction  of  Pope 
Clement  V..  said  to  be  the  tool  of  th-^  latter,  they 
were  robbed  of  their  possessions — which  passed 
mostly  into  the  hands  of  these  monarchs — thrown 
into  prison,  subjected  to  torture  so  severe  that 
many  died  under  it;  their  kindest  treatment  was 
perpetual  penance  in  some  monastery.  By  one 
decree  alone  fifty-four  were  sentenced  to  be  burned 
to  death — this  was  in  Paris.  In  131 2  the  Pope 
finally  abolished  the  Order. 

The  Temple  of  London  then  became  the 
property  of  the  King,  and,  during  the  reign  of 
Edward  III,,  was  rented  for  ten  pounds  sterling 
per  annum  to  students  of  law,  who  then  for  the 
first  time  formed  themselves  into  a  society.      In 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  I  25 

the  reign  of  Richard  II.,  their  number  was  so 
large  that  they  divided  into  two  societies — the 
Inner  Temple  and  the  Middle  Temple  ;  the  badge 
of  the  former  is  a  pegasus,  of  the  latter,  a  holy 
lamb,  and  the  eye  continually  falls  upon  one  or 
the  other  of  these  emblems  on  wall,  window,  gate, 
and  door. 

The  new  temple  was  not  completed  till  after  the 
reverses  following  the  first  success  of  the  Crusa- 
ders, and  the  re-capture  of  Jerusalem  by  the  Turks, 
It  was  during  a  truce  of  four  years  between  the 
latter  and  the  Christians,  that  Heraclius,  Patriarch 
of  Jerusalem,  came  to  England,  accompanied  by 
the  Master  of  the  Knights  of  Malta,  or  St.  John 
— also  called  Knights  Hospitallers  from  their 
Order  having  originated  in  the  establishment  by 
them,  on  the  east  side  of  the  temple  at  Jerusalem, 
of  an  hospital  for  sick  pilgrims.  During  this  visit, 
Heraclius  consecrated  the  Round  Church,  and 
until  the  year  1695,  when  it  was  destroyed  by 
some  workmen,  an  inscription  over  a  door  leading 
from  the  church  to  the  cloister  recorded  the  fact. 
There  are  but  three  other  circular  churches  in 
England.  At  some  later  period  an  oblong 
addition  has  been  made  to  the  primitive  building; 
but  although  they  open  into  each  other  and  form 
one  continuous  apartment,  their  roofs  and  ceilings 
overhead  are  entirely  distinct.  The  circular 
portion    has    a    diameter    of   fifty-eight    feet,   the 


126  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

oblong  a  length  of  eighty-two  feet ;   width,  fifty- 
eight  feet ;  height,  thirty-seven  feet. 

The  Round  Church  has  an  inner  circle  of  six 
pillars,  connected  overhead  with  an  outer  circle  of 
twelve  pillars ;  it  is  said  to  be  a  copy  of  the  temple 
at  Jerusalem,  the  model  of  the  preceding  Temple 
of  Solomon,  the  idea  of  which,  in  its  turn,  is  said 
to  have  found  oricrin  from  the  Mosaic  ark  in  the 
wilderness.  It  has  several  times  been  repaired 
and  restored,  the  last  time  at  an  enormous  expense 
and  with  the  greatest  possible  truth  to  its  primitive 
features, 

Enterinof  throusfh  the  broad  but  rather  low 
arched  doorway,  we  first  notice  the  floor.  It  is 
of  encaustic  tiles,  some  five  or  six  inches  square ; 
their  color  is  a  reddish-brown,  but  so  elaborately 
inlaid  with  gold-colored  patterns  that  the  latter 
color  seems  to  predominate.  The  patterns  vary ; 
on  one  side  of  us  we  see  that  each  tile  bears  the 
encaustic  figure  of  a  lamb  ;  on  our  other  hand  it 
is  a  winged  horse,  the  emblems  of  the  Societies 
of  the  Temple  ;  elsewhere,  various  other  animals, 
as  lions,  tigers,  wolves,  etc.,  and  also  some 
grotesque  designs. 

Near  the  center  of  the  pavement,  on  either 
side  of  the  aisles,  is  a  group  of  recumbent  figures, 
life-size.  On  one  side  are  five  of  these  effigies, 
on  the  other  four  and  a  coffin.  These  are  of 
stone,   and  though  time  and    abuse  had    greatly 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  I  27 

injured  them,  they  were  most  carefully  and 
ingeniously  restored  at  the  last  restoration  of  the 
building.  This  was  done  wholly  at  the  expense 
of  the  two  law  societies,  possessors  of  the  premises. 
At  that  time  it  was  found  that  originally  they  had 
been  richly  colored  ;  one  in  particular  having  had 
a  coat  of  crimson,  armor  of  gold,  and  head 
resting  upon  a  pillow  enameled  with  glass ; 
another,  who  was  accidentally  killed  on  the  eve 
of  his  departure  for  the  Holy  Land,  is  represented 
as  just  unsheathing  his  sword.  All  the  figures 
are  in  armor,  their  immense  shields  on  their  right 
arms.  Five  or  six  of  them  have  the  legs 
crossed;  these  were  Crusaders. 

The   outer  and   inner  circles  of  pillars  form  a 
circular  promenade  around  the  central  part.     As 
we  pass  into  this,  involuntarily  we  stand  motionless 
as  our  eye,  at  but  a  slight  elevation  above  its  own 
level,  follows  a  line  of  sculptured  heads  but  a  few 
feet  apart  and  extending  around  the  church.     So 
varied  and   interesting  is  this  singular  feature,  it 
might   make    the    study   of    hours ;    here    is    the 
thoughtful  face  of  the  student,  there  of  a  beautiful 
woman,  and  again,  beauty  distorted  by  agony;    a 
jester  with  leering  face  and  tongue  protruded  from 
one  corner  of  his   mouth  ;  another  whose  ear  is 
beinir  torn  off  bv  an  animal  that  has  fastened  his 
teeth  upon  it ;  the  proud  faces  of  crowned  kings  ; 
demons    and    angels ;     faces    that    tell     a    story 


I  28  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

of  violent  anguish,  others  of  calm  despair. 
Unfortunately  the  spirit  of  reparation  has  not 
always  been  that  of  restoration,  and  many  of  the 
original  pieces  of  sculpture  have,  in  times  past, 
been  cast  aside  and  replaced  by  duplicates  of  the 
remaining  ones  ;  but  connoisseurs  have  thought 
to  discover  a  general  plan,  viz.:  that  the  usually 
placid  expression  on  one  side  of  the  building  was 
emblematic  of  the  peace  of  heaven  attained 
through  the  prayers  of  the  church,  while  the 
suffering  expression  of  those  on  the  opposite  side 
represents  the  pains  of  purgatory. 

The  oblong  part  of  the  church  in  comparison 
with  the  other,  strikes  one  with  its  beauty  rather 
than  its  antiquity.  The  roof  is  groined  and 
supported  by  beautiful  dark-colored,  marble 
pillars.  The  modern  frescoing  of  the  roof  rivals 
in  brilliancy  the  ancient  ceiling  which,  during  the 
process  of  restoration,  was  found  to  have  been 
once  ornamented  in  orold  and  silver.  In  each 
groin  of  the  roof  is  a  circle,  in  alternation  bearing 
the  lamb  on  a  red  ground  and  the  winged  horse 
on  a  blue.  Over  the  aisle  these  are  varied  by  the 
introduction  of  the  banner  of  the  Templars,  half 
white,  half  black,  because  they  showed  themselves 
wholly  white  towards  the  Christians  but  black  and 
terrible  to  their  enemies.  Still  later  this  banner 
was  changed  into  the  red  Maltese  cross  on  a 
white    ground.      Both  of   these   are  seen  on  the 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  I  29 

ceiling,  as  also  a  third,  which  represents  the 
Cross  of  Christ  raised  above  the  Crescent  of  the 
Saracens,  with  a  star  on  each  side.  The  latter 
device  was  copied  from  a  seal  attached  to  a 
charter  dated  1320,  and  preserved  in  the  British 
Museum. 

The  colored  windows  are  very  rich.  Here 
and  there  on  the  wall  are  pious  inscriptions  in 
Latin  and  Old  English,  while  the  words  of  the 
Te  Deum  make  one  long  inscription  around  the 
building. 

The  organ  has  a  story  of  its  own  :  During 
the  reign  of  Charles  II.,  the  two  Law  Societies 
decided  to  procure  for  themselves  an  instrument 
of  extreme  excellence.  Two  German  manufac- 
turers were  rivals  for  the  job,  and  it  was  finally 
decided  that  each  of  them  should  build  one  and 
leave  the  choice  to  the  purchasers  ;  each  made 
the  best  organ  in  the  world  except  the  other,  each 
party  paid  the  highest  price  to  the  best  performers, 
each  added  improvements,  and,  at  the  end  of  the 
year,  both  were  ruined  in  temper  and  almost 
ruined  in  purse.  The  choice  was  finally  left  to 
the  Lord  Chief  Justice. 

As  we  pass  out  from  the  church  we  turn  aside 
from  the  walk  leadintr  back  to  the  Strand  into 
the  green  at  the  side,  and  there,  heretofore 
ignorant  of  his  last  resting  place,  we  start  with 
surprise  as  the  plain  stone,  covering  his  low  grave. 


130  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

displays,  in  large  letters,  these  words — "  Here 
lies  Oliver  Goldsmith."  Thus,  almost  at  the  very 
dwelling  he  occupied  in  the  days  of  the  full  bloom 
of  his  popularity,  with  nothing  grander  than  a 
plain  stone  and  the  green  turf,  rests  as  should 
rest,  the  ever  simple  child  of  Nature,  the  foster-son 
of  Genius, 

London,  March,  1875. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  I3I 


XI. 

BRITISH  MUSEUM-CARLYLE  IN  HIS  HOME— THE  ALBERT 
MEMORIAL  —  NATIONAL  PORTRAIT  GALLERIES  — 
HUXLEY  AS  TEACHER  AND  LECTURER— LONDON 
SCEIOOL  OF  COOKERY. 

66  ^^0>HE  British  Museum  is  so  heavy,"  said 
^fo)  an  English  lady  to  me  one  day,  and 
^^^  ever  since  it  has  been  impossible  for 
me  to  walk  amid  the  collections  of  Assyrian, 
Egyptian,  and  other  ancient  sculptures  without  a 
vague  feeling  of  the  weight  as  well  as  the  size  of 
these  immense  remnants  of  antiquity.  The 
British  Museum  is  one  of  the  solid  facts  of  the 
world,  and  I  have  not  been  in  the  habit  of 
thinking  of  it  as  ever  having  had  a  beginning  ; 
there  was  a  sort  of  indefinite  feeling  in  my  mind 
that,  "in  the  beginning,"  London  and  the  British 
Museum  were  first  created  from  the  primitive 
chaos,  what  was  left  over  being  afterwards  used  to 
build  the  rest  of  the  world  around  this  great  city. 
It  was  on  one  of  the  marked  days  of  life  that  I 
accidentally  came  upon  the  tomb  of  Hans  Sloane, 
the  founder,  but  little  more  than  a  century  ago. 
of  the  British  Museum.  The  former  line  of  the 
street    has    retired    backwards    before    the  ever- 


132  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

widening  stream  of  humanity,  but  has  left  this 
single  monument  protruding  into  the  street,  its 
inconvenient  position  being  all  that  forces  it  upon 
the  notice  of  the  passer-by.  In  this  modest  but 
most  appropriate  neighborhood  lives  Thomas 
Carlyle,  and  as  our  steps  turned  towards  his 
dwelling  I  wondered  that  an  occasion,  the  mere 
anticipation  of  which  would  ordinarily  fill  me  with 
emotion,  should  to-day  find  an  undisturbed  pulse 
and  the  usual  curious  eye  for  way-side  sights  ; 
yet,  one  might  as  well  be  calm,  for  what  emotion 
could  express  our  appreciation  of  him  whose 
electric  words  have  set  in  motion  minds  that  have 
woven  for  us  the  modern  web  of  science  and 
thought,  who,  if  he  has  mercilessly  probed  the 
weakness  of  man,  has  yet  done  it  with  a  healthful 
sting,  and  who,  if  he  be  a  hero-worshipper,  is  so 
from  the  innate  impulse  with  which  the  fibres  of 
his  being  stretch  themselves  out  in  sympathy  with 
whatever  is  great. 

The  pictures  in  our  country  of  Carlyle  are 
not  very  good ;  he  has  not  the  wrinkled  visage 
and  thought-weary,  almost  unhappy  expression 
generally  seen  in  them,  but  rather  the  friendly, 
happy  look,  so  often  characterizing  the  old  age  of 
a  well-spent  life  ;  his  thick  head  of  hair  is  not 
entirely  whitened,  his  blue  eye  is  bright  but  looks 
worn  with  use,  his  form  is  thin  and  feeble,  and  the 
continual   trembling   of   his   hand   must   interfere 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  1 33 

greatly,  if  not  entirely,  with  the  use  of  his  pen. 
Expecting  our  visit,  his  eyes  and  whole  face 
lighted  up  with  a  smile  of  welcome  as  he  entered 
the  room,  extending  both  hands  in  greeting. 
His  first  words  after  those  of  welcome,  were  of 
singular  beauty  and  appropriateness  ;  they  were 
a  quotation  from  his  own  favorite  Ossian,  in  reply 
to  my  companion's  congratulation  on  his  apparent 
good  health  ;    "  Yes,  but 

'  Age  is  dark  and  unlovely.'  " 

The  almost  solemn  sadness  of  the  tone  in  which 
he  spoke  the  words,  changed  to  cheerfulness  as 
he  immediately  added,  "  But  I  ought  not  to 
complain,"  and  then  to  vivacity,  as  thought  and 
reminiscence  followed  each  other  in  uninterrupted 
flow.  It  was  quite  wonderful  to  recall  how  much 
he  had  said  in  our  short  visit ;  he  knew  that  we 
had  come  to  see  and  hear  a  great  man,  and  he 
paid  us  the  compliment  of  putting  as  much  of 
himself  as  possible  into  our  half-hour  with  him. 
He  ran  over  this  and  that  history  with  apparently 
no  mental  effort,  and  then,  touching  upon  the 
present  and  himself,  said  that  the  strangest  thing 
in  the  world  to  him  were  the  little  boys  and  girls 
in  the  streets.  Of  course  it  would  not  have  been 
Thomas  Carlyle  had  he  not  indulged  in  a  little 
downright  scolding,  and  that  scolding  was  about 
California.  "  You  are  doing  no  good  there  ;  you 
are  harming  the  world.     Cover  over  your  mines 


134  .LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

leave  your  gold  in  the  earth  and  go  to  planting 
potatoes.  Every  man  who  gives  a  potato  to 
the  world  is  the  benefactor  of  his  race ;  but 
you  with  your  gold,  are  overturning  society, 
making  the  ignoble  prominent,  increasing  every- 
where the  expenses  of  living,  and  confusing 
all  things."  Expressing  the  hope  that  he  would 
live  many  years,  to  which  he  replied,  "  You  need 
not  wish  it  for  me,  but  I  must  await  my 
summons,"  we  bade  him  adieu  and  passed  out 
again  into  the  world,  which  for  the  moment 
seemed  shrunken  and  silent. 

Those  who  find  the  Muses  of  the  British 
Museum  too  heavy  have  the  alternative  of  paying 
homage  to  those  of  Kensington.  Kensington 
was  once  a  separate  town,  but,  like  so  many 
others,  was  long  since  devoured  by  hungry 
London.  Kensington  Gardens  are  to-day  nothing 
but  a  continuation  of  Hyde  Park.  It  is  here  we 
find  the  last  Albert  Memorial,  which  everybody 
asks  if  you  have  seen.  It  seems  as  if  Prince 
Albert's  virtues  must  soon  give  out,  leaving  none 
to  commemorate,  if  his  widowed  Queen  goes  on 
setting  up,  throughout  the  United  Kingdom, 
memorials  as  numerous  as  mile  stones.  Perhaps, 
after  all,  the  statues  of  Memnon  scattered  through 
Asia,  instead  of  being  landmarks  of  the  progress 
of  a  lost  religion  were  nothing  but  a  series  of 
Albert   memorials    by   some    long-since  forgotten 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  I  35 

Queen,  and  that  these  of  our  day  will  be  as  great 
a  puzzle  to  a  future  race  seeking  to  read  the 
history  of  the  barbarian  world  of  the  nineteenth 
century.  To  say  that  this  monument  is  rich  and 
elegant  is  not  to  tell  half  its  merit.  One  ascends 
to  it  by  a  double  terrace  of  broad  handsome  steps. 
At  each  lower  corner  is  a  colossal  group  in  pure 
white  marble,  representing  respectively,  Europe, 
Asia,  Africa  and  America.  Each  group  consists 
of  four  figures,  male  or  female,  surrounding  an 
animal  typical  of  the  grand  division  represented. 
Thus,  Europe  has  an  ox,  Asia  an  elephant 
kneeling,  Africa  a  camel  in  the  same  attitude,  and 
America  a  buffalo.  In  each  group  one  figure  is 
seated  on  the  back  of  the  animal,  while  in  that 
representing  our  own  continent,  two  of  the  figures 
are  Indians. 

The  monument  itself  is  of  pure  white  marble, 
with  an  open  arch  for  a  statue  of  the  Prince  ;  its 
base  is  an  exquisite  piece  of  sculpture,  on  which 
I  counted  i6o  full  life-size  figures,  in  high  relief, 
of  the  greatest  artists  and  scientists  that  have  ever 
lived.  The  roof  of  the  monument  is  heavily 
gilded,  and  its  arches  and  pillars  brilliant  with  the 
various  colored  stones  with  which  it  is  inlaid  ; 
there  are  carnelians,  agates,  and  others  much 
richer  and  rarer  whose  names  I  do  not  know, 
half  spherical  in  forn^i  and  some  three  inches  in 
diameter.      Elegant  and  splendid  as  it  is,  I  do  not 


136  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

find  it  perfectly  pleasing  ;  there  is  to  me  a  want 
of  harmony  somewhere,  like  that  of  the  right 
thing  in  the  wrong  place.  In  grandeur  I  find  it 
far  inferior  to  the  tomb  of  Napoleon  L,  at  Paris, 
and  it  does  not  express  the  perfection  of  good 
taste  and  appropriateness  of  Sir  Walter  Scott's 
monument  at  Edinburgh.  Perhaps  the  gilding 
and  brilliant-colored  stones,  contrasted  with  the 
white  marble,  give  it  a  touch  of  gaudiness  we 
should  not  feel  were  it  covered  by  a  temple  ; 
perhaps  there  is  a  vague  sentiment  that  a  mere 
polished  gentleman  of  high  culture,  who  has  yet 
bequeathed  to  the  world  no  fruit  of  genius,  has 
hardly  a  right  to  a  Prince's  place  in  the  select 
circle  of  the  world's  most  brilliant  minds,  and  that 
though  his  death  was  a  sad  event  in  one  happy 
family  circle,  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe  would 
hardly  know  the  difference  between  his  living  and 

his  dying. 

A  few  rods  distant  from  the  Albert  Memorial 
is  the  Albert  Music  Hall,  an  immense  structure 
which,  though  it  looks  well  enough,  is  still  more 
remarkable  for  its  size  than  for  its  beauty  ;  it  is 
a  circular  or  oblong  building,  the  construction  of 
whose  roof  was  a  problem  for  architects;  finally, 
exact  measurements  were  taken,  the  roof  was  then 
constructed — of  iron  and  glass,  I  believe — and 
afterward  lifted  and  placed  complete  on  the  top  of 
the  building. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  137 

In  buildings  adjacent  to  this  were  held  the 
International  Exhibition  of  last  year,  and  here 
we  find  the  National  Portrait  Gallery  of  over  four 
hundred  pictures,  one  of  the  most  interesting 
collections  in  the  world,  containing  portraits  of 
everybody  you  want  to  see  and  some  besides. 
Here  is  Nell  Gwynn  in  her  rich  ripe  beauty;  here 
is  the  very  handsome  Lady  Hamilton  looking 
over  her  shoulder  directly  into  the  face  of  her 
friend  Lord  Nelson,  hinting  that  the  picture- 
hanger  had  read  history  as  well;  the  gentle  figure 
of  Benjamin  West,  and  the  well-known  face 
of  Benjamin  Franklin  are  also  here.  Perhaps 
the  only  unworthy  artistic  work  is  a  profile 
crayon  of  George  Washington.  Not  far  from 
this  building  we  find  the  Kensington  Museum, 
a  very  fine  building  of  face  brick,  ornamented 
with  exquisite  columns  and  carvings  or  mould- 
ings, one  end  being  beautifully  inlaid  with  the 
work  of  the  pupils  of  the  School  of  Art  located 
here.  This  Museum  is  so  richly  filled  that 
it  would  seeni  easier  to  tell  what  is  n't  here 
than  to  describe  its  contents.  Here  is  porcelain 
enough  to  build  a  crack  hotel  equal  to  our 
"  Palace ; "  antique  carvings  in  wood,  ancient 
tapestries,  rich  laces,  old  and  new,  and  a  large  and 
interesting  picture  gallery,  where,  among  other 
things,  we  find  the  famous  cartoons  of  Raphael 
transferred  here  from  Hampton  Court  Palace. 


138  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

This  buildincr  is  also  a  center  of  schools  of 
Science  and  Art,  and  of  normal  training  in  these 
departments.  Some  classes  of  the  School  of 
Mines  are  held  here,  among  others  that  of 
Huxley,  whose  laboratories  and  class-room  we  find 
at  the  top  of  the  building,  up  ten  flights  of  stairs,  so 
tiresome  to  ascend  as  to  make  him  secure  from 
the  intrusion  of  idlers.  It  seems  strange  enough 
that  two  men  so  entirely  unlike  as  Tyndall  and 
Huxley  should  have  their  names  so  constantly 
associated  as  they  are  with  us.  Huxley  has  a 
square  and  rather  full  face,  with  long,  thick,  black 
hair  beginning  to  turn  grey.  He  looks  pale  and 
sick  and  has  the  air  of  a  man  whose  health  is 
irretrievably  lost  by  hard  work.  He  is  the  very 
personification  of  modesty,  and  his  studious  life 
betrays  itself  in  his  retiring,  almost  timid  manner, 
and  a  very  short  observation  hints  at  his  being 
more  at  home  among  fishes  than  among  men  — 
in  his  laboratory  than  in  society.  In  conversing 
with  him  I  asked  him  if  he  did  not  think  of  some 
day  visiting  our  country  to  see  for  himself  his 
high  repute  with  us.  He  thought  the  greatest 
interest  he  should  find  in  such  a  journey  would  be 
to  observe  whether  we  really  had  the  freedom  of 
which  we  so  much  boast.  He  was  inclined  to 
think  that,  in  fact,  we  had  less  of  it  than  his  own 
countrymen,  and  that  for  all  classes  England  is 
the  true  home  of  liberty  where  each   man  finds 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL,  1 39 

himself  protected  in  his  independent  position. 
Ladies  are  seldom  admitted  to  his  daily  classes, 
but  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  receive  an  invitation 
to  attend  one  day  when  the  subject  was  to  be  one 
that  would  not  be  embarrassing  in  the  presence 
of  ladies.  He  is  so  skillful  with  the  crayon,  that, 
as  if  involuntarily  and  unconsciously  to  himself, 
his  hand  creates,  in  the  order  of  the  development 
he  is  teaching,  bird,  fish  and  reptile,  and  by  the 
time  he  has  finished  his  lecture,  without  having 
lost  one  second  of  time  from  speaking,  he  has 
covered  his  blackboards  with  illustrations  which 
seem  to  have  grown  of  themselves  under  his  hand. 
At  the  close  of  the  lecture  the  students  go  to  the 
laboratory,  where,  in  everything  possible,  they 
work  out  for  themselves  the  teaching  of  the  lecture- 
room.  The  class  this  Winter  numbered  about 
twenty,  varying  in  age  from  fifteen  to  fifty 
years.  The  students  think  it  requires  a  good 
deal  of  courage  to  offer  themselves  for  examina- 
tion for  a  diploma  in  this  course;  and  yet  this  is 
but  one  course  of  study  not  more  rigorous  than 
the  others  connected  with  this  school,  than  which, 
I  feel  safe  in  asserting,  no  other  institution  gives 
a  higher  and  more  thorough  education,  and 
perhaps  the  school  is  without  an  equal. 

Professor  Huxley  has  given  one  evening  lecture 
this  season  and  but  one,  I  believe,  and  among  the 
many  distinguished  men  I  have  this  Winter  heard, 


140  LETTERS  OF  TRAVEL. 

none  drew  so  distinguished  an  audience  as  he. 
The  Duke  of  Northumberland  filled  the  chair, 
the  Chief  Lord  of  the  Admiralty  was  seated  beside 
him,  while  Huxley,  with  his  calm,  earnest,  yet 
fascinating  manner,  seemed  well  worthy  to  be  the 
center  of  such  an  assembly  of  aristocratic  and 
intellectual  nobility. 

In  this  building  we  also  find  the  National  Art 
Training  School,  for  the  systematic  training  of 
teachers  in  the  principles  and  practice  of  Art,  in  its 
application  to  the  common  uses  of  life  and  to  the 
requirements  of  trade  and  manufactures.  The 
instruction  comprehends  all  kinds  of  drawing, 
painting  and  modeling,  and  includes  relative  sub- 
jects, such  as  practical  geometry  and  lectures  on 
anatomy  as  applicable  to  the  Arts.  The  tuition 
for  a  term  of  five  months — five  hours  study  by 
day  and  two  evening  hours — is  but  five  pounds. 
Connected  with  this  head  department  are  nine 
district  schools  of  Art  situated  in  different  parts  of 
London,  and  in  the  whole  United  Kingdom  there 
are  one  hundred  and  twenty-six  branches  of 
the  Art  school,  in  all  of  which  annual  examinations 
are  held,  with  a  national  competition  for  prizes. 
In  addition  to  the  students  of  these  schools  there 
are  over  six  hundred  nig'ht  schools  instructino- 
20,000  students,  while  in  2,100  schools  for  the 
poor  238,000  children  receive  instruction  in  draw- 
ing.     The  school  has  a  library  of  25,000  volumes 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  1^} 

on  Art,  a  collection  of  10,000  drawings  and 
designs,  20,000  engravings  of  ornament,  35,000 
photographs  of  architecture,  etc.  General  readers 
may  also  be  admitted  to  this  library  by  the  pay- 
ment of  a  very  small  fee,  and  the  books  and  objects 
in  the  museum  are  lent  to  the  different  schools 
throughout  the  kingdom. 

The  last  school  of  Art  that  I  visited  at  Ken- 
sington, was  the  National  Training  School  of 
Cookery,  This  was  established  in  1874  with  the 
following  objects  in  view:  first,  to  qualify  person^ 
to  become  teachers  in  other  schools  of  cookery  ; 
second,  to  give  instruction  in  the  principles  of 
cookery  to  any  person  desirous  to  be  taught  ; 
third,  to  send  out  lecturers  on  cookery  to  such 
towns  or  institutions  as  may  be  willing  to  incur 
the  attendant  expense.  At  present  the  whole 
course  of  instruction  requires  four  weeks'  attend- 
ance from  10  A.  M.  to  4  p.  M.  There  are  three 
grades  of  cookery  taught :  first,  that  adapted  to 
the  restricted  means  of  the  poor;  second,  to  the 
moderate  means  of  the  middle  class  ;  third,  the 
preparation  of  dainties  for  the  rich  man's  table. 
There  is  a  separate  kitchen  for  each  class  of 
cookery,  and  a  lecture-room  where  the  pupils, 
ranged  on  elevated  seats,  observe  and  take  notes 
of  the  teacher's  method  of  preparing  and  mixing 
different  ingredients.  The  lecture  course  extends 
through  two  weeks,    of   which    each    day    has  a 


142  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

different  topic,  viz.:  one  lecture  on  jellies  and 
creams,  the  next  day  on  cookery  for  the  sick-room, 
etc.  The  fee  for  the  complete  course  is  six  pounds, 
concluding  with  a  written  examination  and  the 
conferring  of  a  diploma.  The  following  is  a  con- 
densed outline  of  the  course  : 

First  week,    making    and    managing    of    fires, 
cleaning  of  stoves,   regulating  ovens,  cleaning  of 
pots,  kettles,  pans  and  tins,  making  yeast,   bread, 
and  f  cheap    cake,    clarifying    lard,    the  difference 
between  boiling  and  stewing,  etc. 

Second  week,  simple  cooking  for  families  who 
are  poor,  such  as  roasting,  boiling,  frying,  etc.,  and 
the  best  way  of  cooking  canned  or  preserved 
meats. 

Third  week,  baking  of  all  kinds  of  meat,  pies, 
cakes  and  puddings,  boiling  of  soups,  preparation 
of  broths  for  the  sick,  stewing  of  meat,  frying  of 
omelettes,  etc.,  and  cooking  of  vegetables. 

Fourth  week,  pickles,  sweetmeats,  sauces  and 
dainties.  Among  the  eighty-three  questions  of  the 
last  examination  I  find  the  following:  In  one 
hundred  parts  of  potato  how  many  are  water,  how 
many  starch  ?  What  kind  offish  affords  the  largest 
amount  of  nutriment  at  the  smallest  cost?  Which 
is  the  simplest  and  most  wholesome  mode  of  cook- 
ing food?  Of  beef  and  mutton,  which  loses  more 
in  weight  by  cooking,  which  is  more  nutritious  ? 
If   potatoes    form    the    principal  diet  of  a  family, 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  I 43 

what  Other  kind  of  food  should  be  taken,  and  why? 
What  general  rules  for  roasting  meat — describe 
process  and  time  to  be  allowed  for  a  leg  of  mutton 
weighing  nine  pounds,  ten  ounces.  What  differ- 
ence in  the  boiling  of  meat  to  be  eaten  and  in 
boiling  it  for  extracting  soup  ?  How  would  you 
prepare  a  dish  of  fried  cutlets  and  potatoes  ? 
Mutton  broth  for  six  persons,  ingredients  and 
quantity  of  meat?  Different  methods  of  prepar- 
ing beef  tea,  and  how  you  would  prepare  it  for  a 
patient  ill  with  typhoid  fever  ?  Describe  the 
process  of  making  bread,  melted  butter,  lobster 
salad,  puff  paste,  paste  for  the  crust  of  a  meat 
pie.  State  the  analysis  of  a  potato,  a  mackerel 
and  a  mutton-chop. 

I  read  an  abstract  of  a  public  lecture  given  by 
one  of  the  teachers  of  this  school  on  the  cooking 
of  potatoes.  It  was  taught  that  if  the  skin  be 
removed  before  boiling,  at  least  one-third  of  the 
nutriment  is  lost,  and  in  a  country  so  thickly 
populated  as  England,  where  the  potato  con- 
tributes a  large  proportion  of  the  poor  man's  diet, 
the  savine  to  him  of  one-third  in  food  is  an  item 
of  greater  importance  than  we,  in  our  land  of 
plenty,  can  realize.  It  was  also  taught  that  in 
washing  the  potato  great  care  should  be  taken  not 
to  bruise  the  skin  ;  it  should  be  handled  tenderly, 
and  the  use  of  a  soft  brush  was  recommended  for 
the  purpose.      I   might  add  that  the  necessity  of 


144  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

economy  in  food  depends  upon  the  large  population 
and  limited  territory  of  England,  did  I  not  recall 
the  almost  indiofnant  answer  of  a  book-seller  in 
Chester  whom  I  asked  for  a  small  map  of  England. 
In  a  tone  of  half-rebuke  and  half-contempt  for 
my  ignorance,  he  told  me,  "There  could  lit  be 
a  small  map  of  England!"  The  Cookery  School 
in  London  has,  as  yet,  I  am  told,  hardly  served 
the  purpose  for  which  it  was  intended,  being  to 
too  great  a  degree,  thus  far,  a  sort  of  fashionable 
folly,  where  ladies  who  will  never  do  the  thing 
again  in  their  lives,  go  and  scrub  a  square  yard  of 
an  already  clean  deal  table  or  floor ;  or  young  ladies, 
note-book  in  hand,  pass  from  one  teacher  to 
another  asking  how  to  make  an  apple-tart  or  a 
plum-pudding,  and  then  go  home  with  the  conceit 
that  they  are  intelligent  and  accomplished  cooks, 
fully  armed  against  panics  in  the  kitchen. 

London,  February,  1875. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  I45 


XII. 

AVIGNON— THE  YEAR  OF  JUBILEE. 

DO  N'T  know  how  agreeable  it  is  falling 
asleep  a  nobody  and  waking  up  to  find 
one's  self  famous — the  rare  lot  of  a  few 
lucky  mortals — but  it  is  certainly  very  pleasant 
falling  asleep  nowhere  to  wake  up  in  a  famous 
place.  That  was  the  way  we  awoke  one  morning 
in  Avignon.  We  remained  in  London  till  there 
was  great  danger  of  our  becoming  heathens, 
fire-worshipers  and  idolaters  of  the  sun  ;  so,  for 
the  sake  of  body  and  soul,  we  were  at  last  obliged 
to  bid  adieu  to  that  dear,  grand  and  gloomy  old 
city,  that  eighth  wonder  of  the  world  that  doth 
bestride  the  narrow  Thames  like  a  Colossus,  per- 
mitting, like  its  ancient  Rhodian  prototype,  the 
commerce  of  a  world  to  enter  within  the  portals  it 
so  grandly  guards.  So  we  turned  our  faces  from 
this  place,  which  had  been  to  us  a  pillar  of  smoke 
by  day  and  by  night,  towards  the  blue  sky  of  la 
belle  France. 

As  fast  as  steam  will  carry  us  we  hasten  on  our 
way,  disdaining  every  temptation  to  stop,  even 
that  of  the  inviting  smile  of  beautiful   Paris,  and 


146  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

victorious  as  the  Prussians,  with  every  mile  over- 
coming London  lassitude  and  London  smoke,  we 
travel,  till,  from  utter  weariness,  we  tumble  out 
of  the  cars  and  into  the  nearest  hotel,  scarcely 
knowing  and  caring  less,  at  what  place  we  have 
stopped.  A  few  hours'  sleep  refreshes  ;  awaking, 
we  turn  our  eyes  to  the  window,  and  the  first 
glance  brings  to  our  memory  a  whole  panorama  of 
mental  pictures  which  we  have  all  our  lives  been 
forming,  of  the  curious  narrow  streets  of  the  old 
cities  of  Europe  ;  the  front  wall  of  the  opposite 
house  is  so  near  that  we  feel  as  if  it  were  going  to 
move  right  up  to  our  own,  and-  looking  straight 
in  at  our  window  stands  the  Holy  Virgin  with  her 
Babe  as  if  ready  to  welcome  us  heretics  with  a 
blessing. 

Satisfied  with  out-of-doors,  our  eye  returns  to 
the  chamber  within  ;  it  is  a  spacious  room  ;  over- 
head, the  wall  is  divided  by  immense  beams  into 
three  compartments,  traversed  longitudinally  by 
deep,  narrow  rafters,  giving  a  singular  effect  of 
light  and  shadow,  more  fully  brought  out  by  our 
blazing  wood  fire  of  evening  by  whose  light  we  sit, 
while  whole  bookfuls  of  half-revealed  fancies  and 
uncertain  emotions  flutter  in  our  imagination, 
responsive  to  the  dancing  blaze  before  us  and 
mingled  light  and  shadow  above  us. 

But  what  are  those  curious  frescoes  over  doors 
and  mirrors,  and  hiding  in  recesses?   Was  Avignon 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  1 47 

a  secret  retreat  of  the  muses,  or  have  the  gods  and 
goddesses  taken  it  into  their  heads  to  give  us  a 
surprise  party  ?  At  any  rate  here  they  are.  From 
over  the  fire-place  Jupiter  and  Juno,  enthroned  in 
clouds  and  attended  by  the  peacock,  preside  at  the 
social  gathering,  while  Cupid  as  door-keeper  is 
playing  his  pranks  over  the  heads  of  those  who 
enter  this  apartment  ;  Aurora  hovers  near  the 
windows,  while  Urania  retreats  to  the  opposite 
wall,  and  Minerva  and  Thalia  offer  us  a  choice  of 
exit  by  the  way  of  Wisdom  or  the  way  of  Mirth, 
The  uncarpeted  floor  is,  like  all  in  the  house,  of 
small,  hexagonal  bricks  kept  brightly  colored  and 
polished  by  a  mixture  of  vermilion  and  wax.  We 
pass  out  from  our  room  into  a  long  corridor,  where, 
at  night,  a  sort  of  ghostly  thrill  runs  through  me 
as  I  wander  through  the  long  passages  whose  stone 
walls  and  brick  floors  give  a  sepulchral  feeling  to 
the  air,  and  whose  darkness,  but  half-illumined  by 
the  faint  light  of  the  candle  in  my  hand,  shuts  in 
again  behind  me  as  I  advance. 

It  is  a  strange,  impressive  house,  and,  judging 
from  its  size  and  its  faded  traces  of  magnificence 
and  grandeur,  must  have  had  a  history  ;  but  I  can 
only  learn  the  fact  of  its  having  been  a  hotel  for  a 
hundred  years.  As  we  look  at  the  house  from  the 
outside  we  are  glad  to  see  that  we  need  not  be 
dependent  on  our  neighbors  for  a  blessing,  for 
right  between  the  windows  of  our  room  is  another 


148  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

Blessed  Vlrofin,  and  we  are  becrinnino'  to  feel 
rather  proud  of  our  advantages  in  this  line,  when 
we  discover  another  close  by,  and  as  we  walk  on 
we  find  almost  every  house  ornamented  by  such  a 
statue,  larger  or  smaller,  and  before  we  have  half 
made  the  tour  of  the  cit)'  we  conclude  that  the 
eleven  thousand  viro^ins  of  Coloi^^ne  are  on  a 
pilgrimage  to  Avignon. 

Avignon  is  a  curious  place^a  labyrinth  rather 
than  a  city.  The  passages  through  which  we  walk 
are  too  narrow  to  be  called  streets.  Sometimes 
there  is  something  like  an  elevated  step  taking  the 
place  of  a  sidewalk,  but  it  is  too  narrow  to  walk 
upon  with  both  feet,  and,  setting  aside  the  awkward- 
ness of  gait,  one  soon  tires  of  trying  to  walk  with 
one  foot  a  dozen  inches  higher  than  the  other,  and 
so  resigns  himself  to  the  rough  pavement. 

The  streets  wind  and  turn  in  the  most  mysterious 
manner,  describing  every  kind  of  line  and  angle 
ever  drawn  ;  one  gets  hopelessly  lost  in  less  than 
two  minutes,  and  the  only  way  to  arrive  at  any 
distant  part  of  the  city  is  to  give  up  the  attempt 
and  endeavor  to  return  home.  It  is  as  delightful 
a  Sabbath  morning  as  ever  pious  poet  could  wish 
when  we  go  out  for  our  first  walk  in  Avignon. 
Two  rods  distant  from  our  hotel  we  come  upon 
the  market-place,  a  square,  without  roof,  where 
are  displayed  all  the  vegetables  and  fruits  of  the 
season,  sold  by  the  coarsest-looking  old  women  you 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  1 49 

ever  saw,  but  so  strong  that  at  night  I  shall  see 
them  trundling  their  heavy  lumbering  carts  from 
out  the  line  of  wagons  almost  as  easily  as  a  delicate 
woman  could  pick  up  a  feather  duster.  Around 
the  market-place  and  in  thebusiest  street  leading 
from  it  are  little  tables  two  or  three  feet  square, 
from  a  framework  over  which  hane  branches  to 
which  are  tied  various  colored  candied  fruits  and 
bonbons.  A  few  sous  give  you  a  chance  to  win 
one  of  these.  The  game  is  gambling,  the  day  is 
Sunday,  and  if  you  have  your  child  beside  you  and 
give  him  the  golden  fruit,  if  he  is  an  American  he 
will  doubtless  learn  a  lesson;  but  there  is  not  the 
least  danger  of  anybody  belonging  to  Avignon 
ever  falling  into  evil  ways. 

It  is  often  easier  to  blunder  upon  the  best  than 
to  find  it  by  searching  ;  and  so,  either  by  blunder- 
ing or  because  all  the  streets  of  Avignon  finally 
lead  to  this  spot,  we  soon  find  ourselves  in  the 
open  space  called  the  Place  du  Palais,  fronting  the 
palace  built  for  the  residence  of  the  Popes,  when 
Avignon  supplanted  Rome  as  the  Papal  seat. 
The  palace  is  now  used  as  barracks  for  soldiers, 
quite  a  different  branch  of  the  Church  militant. 
It  is  built  on  the  declivity  of  a  solitary  hill,  whose 
opposite  side  rises  most  abruptly  from  the  banks 
of  the  Rhone.  Looking  over  the  parapet  on  its 
summit  your  eye  falls  for  some  three  hundred  feet 
down  a  perpendicular  wall  of  stone,  part  of   the 


150  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

ramparts  of  the  city,  and  whose  base  is  distant 
from  the  river  but  the  width  of  a  carriage  road. 
Extensive  gardens,  belonging  to  the  pubHc,  cover 
the  summit  of  the  hill  and  slide  a  little  distance 
down  its  sides.  The  highest  part  is  a  mound  of 
volcanic  rocks,  under  which  are  grottoes  from 
twenty  to  thirty  feet  in  height,  from  whose  roofs 
the  water  drops  into  artificial  ponds  ;  it  is  ascended 
by  winding  steps  fantastically  cut  in  the  rocks, 
from  the  top  of  which  is  the  crowning  view, 
unobstructed  in  every  direction  and  bounded  only 
by  distant  mountain  ranges. 

As  you  look  the  eye  fills  with  tears  at  the  beauty 
of  the  scene  before  you.  On  one  side  below  you, 
the  old  city  with  its  well-kept  walls,  then  the 
smiling  plain  with  robe  of  verdure  broidered  with 
winding  silver  streams,  while 

"Beyond  this  lovely  valley  rise 
The  purple  hills  of  Paradise." 

You  turn  to  the  scene  behind  you  ;  at  your  feet 
the  Rhone,  or  as  they  say  here,  the  Two  Rhones, 
for  the  loner  and  fertile  island  of  Barthelasse 
divides  the  waters  of  the  Rhone  just  opposite  the 
city  of  Avignon.  Beyond  the  further  bank  of  the 
Rhone  lies  the  old  town  of  Villeneuve,  where,  when 
you  visit  it,  you  will  find  the  most  interesting 
feature  to  be  the  clatter  of  the  hand-looms,  weaving 
silk,  heard  from  within  the  houses  as  you  pass 
through  its  lonely  streets — almost  the  only  sound 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  151 

that  breaks  the  silence  of  the  place.  A  high  square 
tower  in  ruins,  called  the  Tower  of  Philip-le-Bel, 
ornaments  the  town  and  is  wholly  in  keeping  with 
the  tout  ensemble.  Between  Villeneuve  and  the 
far,  far  horizon  of  snow-clad  mountains  stretches 
a  rich  and  fertile  valley,  while  in  the  nearer 
distance  the  undulating  hills  show  whole  forests  of 
olive  trees,  alternating  with  vine-clad  slopes. 

At  the  border  of  the  gardens  and  between  them 
and  the  palace,  is  the  church  of  Notre  Dame  de 
Doms,  whose  legendary  history  connects  it  with 
the  name  of  St.  Martha,  sister  of  Lazarus  the 
friend  of  Jesus,  and  who,  "the  legend  saith"  brought 
the  Evangel  of  Christ  to  Avignon  and  founded  a 
church  on  this  spot.  But  though  profane  history 
contradicts  this  poetic  fancy  by  proving  that  the 
light  of  Christianity  did  not  dawn  on  Avignon 
until  the  fifth  century  after  Christ,  we  know, 
nevertheless,  that  this  church  has  seen  better  days, 
inasmuch  as  it  has  occupied  the  position  of  rival 
to  St.  Peter's  at  Rome.  Its  tower  is  surmounted 
by  a  gilded  statue  of  Our  Lady,  crowning  not  only 
the  church  but  also  all  the  landscape  around,  and 
whose  open  hands  are  stretched  out  as  if  to  drop 
blessings  on  her  faithful  people.  In  front  of  the 
church  is  a  "Calvary,"  a  round  enclosure,  where, 
high-uplifted  on  a  cross,  is  the  crucified  One,  with 
four  angels  kneeling  at  his  feet. 

Within  the  church   many    paintings  are  to  be 


152  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

seen,  some  of  rare  excellence.  On  the  two  sides 
of  the  gallery  are  exceedingly  fine  portraits  of  the 
ten  Popes  who  reigned  here,  averaging  seven  or 
eight  years  each.  The  furniture  of  the  altars  is 
very  rich,  and  all  their  wealth  of  gold  and  silver 
is  displayed. 

As  we  are  about  to  leave  the  church  we  meet  at 
its  porch  a  procession  of  children  which  we  soon 
beein  to  think  includes  all  the  children  in  France. 
As  they  pass  into  the  church  and  before  its 
brilliantly  lighted  altars  without  stopping,  we  follow 
them  without,  when  lo!  from  the  long,  broad  and 
winding  flights  of  stone  steps  leading  up  to  the 
church  we  look  down  on  a  sea  of  heads  filling  the 
Place  du  Palais  where,  half  an  hour  ago,  a  scattered 
dozen  were  passing  hither  and  thither.  This  crowd 
is  entering  the  square  from  two  different  directions. 
What  does  it  mean?  It  is  the  first  procession  of 
the  Year  of  Jubilee,  which,  occurring  once  in 
twenty-five  years,  gives  plenary  indulgence  to  all 
who  join  in  three  processions,  each  time  visiting 
four  different  churches. 

For  an  hour  or  more  we  stand  and  watch  them 
winding  slowly  up  the  hill ;  it  is  one  of  those  quiet 
days  when  heaven  and  earth  are  hushed  and  Nature 
becomes  a  poem.  The  morning  breeze  holds  its 
breath,  the  sweet-scented  flowers  fill  the  air  with 
fragrant  incense,  and  the  trees  of  early  Spring 
gently  drop  their  tributes  of  beauty  ;  Nature  listens 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  1 53 

in  silence  to  the  voice  of  worship,  and  tunes  herself 
in  harmony  with  the  scene.  But  the  silence  is  not 
all  unbroken  ;  the  hushed  breeze  trembles  to  the 
sweet  voices  of  a  hundred  maidens  breaking  into 
joyful  song,  and,  as  the  music  swells  louder  and 
louder,  the  heavens  seem  to  rejoice  m  the  gladness 
of  youth  ;  anon  the  gentle  voices  of  a  sisterhood 
of  nuns  mingle  soft  chant  and  holy  praise,  and  as 
they  pass,  you  look  upon  them  half  envying  the 
peace  they  seem  to  have  found,  half  regretting 
for  them  the  joys  they  seem  to  have  missed. 
Schools  of  hundreds  of  sturdy  urchins  marshaled 
by  Holy  Brothers — their  instructors — repeat  song 
or  prayer  in  unison  ;  pious  women,  friends  and 
acquaintances,  walk  side  by  side,  each  for  herself 
telling  her  own  beads  and  saying  her  own  prayers  ; 
religious  societies  of  men,  forgetful  for  the  hour  of 
the  world  and  its  business^  have  donned  the  garb 
of  their  society  to  join  in  the  solemn  ceremony  of 
the  day  ;  here  are  the  Black  Penitents,  the  White 
Penitents  and  the  Gray  Penitents,  each  enveloped 
in  the  domino  of  the  color  of  his  order,  the  hood  of 
the  domino  forming  a  long  pointed  mask  falling 
over  the  face  and  reaching  to  the  waist,  and 
perforated  only  by  two  round  openings  for  the 
eyes.  Rising  above  the  heads  of  the  procession  at 
short  intervals  are  banners,  statues,  crucifixes  and 
other  religious  emblems.  It  was  a  striking  scene, 
this  our  first  introduction  to  Catholic  Europe,  and 
10 


154  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

one  never  to  be  forgotten.  Eye-weary  we  at  last 
turned  our  steps  homeward,  through  streets  Hned 
with  the  still  onward  advancing  procession  which 
that  day  numbered  upwards  of  forty  thousand 
persons. 

Avignon,  March  1875. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  1 55 


XIII. 

AVIGNON— LETTER  TO  A  FRIEND. 

'7"  was  by  mere  accident  that  we  first  stopped 
a  few  hours  in  this  place  to  rest  on  our 
way  from  Paris  to  Montpellier — the  charms 
and  resources  of  which  latter  place  are  principally 
to  be  found  in  gazetteers.  It  is  sufficient  to  say 
that  going  there  with  the  intention  of  remaining  a 
month,  we  came  away  at  the  end  of  two  days, 
perfectly  satisfied  with  what  we  had  seen,  the  sense 
of  smell  having  greatly  aided  that  of  sight  in 
establishing  in  our  minds  the  fact  of  its  antiquity. 
Pleased  with  the  impression  Avignon  made  upon 
us  in  the  few  hours  we  had  given  to  it,  we  decided 
to  return  and  here  await  warmer  weather  in 
northern  France.  The  whole  city- — streets,  people 
and  houses — is  a  museum  and  also  a  monument, 
one  face  of  which  is  inscribed  with  the  story  of  its 
Papal  magnificence,  when  Avignon  was  the  Rome 
of  the  world  ;  the  other  is  a  souvenir  of  the  loves 
of  Petrarch  and  Laura. 

Of  course  it  is  impossible  to  remain  here  without 
learning  much  of  the  ancient  history  of  the  Church, 


156  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

Still  more  without  hunting  up  all  the  local  traditions 
of  the  great  poet.  It  seems  almost  as  incredible 
that  Petrarch  daily  walked  the  streets  we  are 
walking,  and  looked  with  a  poet's  eyes  on  this 
lovely  landscape  of  the  valley  of  the  Rhone,  as  it 
is  difficult  to  realize  that  we  are  in  a  city  founded 
six  hundred  years  before  the  creation  of  the 
Christian  world. 

I  have  spent  many  a  pleasant  hour  perusing  the 
memoirs  of  Petrarch  which  abound  here.  The 
inhabitants  treasure  his  name  and  memory  with 
the  greatest  pride,  and  however  well  authenticated, 
reject  everything  which  does  not  redound  to  his 
honor. 

Thus  vou  will  not  doubt  that  in  so  delectable  a 
place,  whose  walls  are  of  religion  and  whose 
atmosphere  is  love,  we  find  life  very  charming, 
and  the  Old  World  richer  in  enjoyment  than  my 
untraveled  mind  had  pictured.  The  climate  here  is 
very  much  like  that  of  San  P^-ancisco,  with  rather 
greater  extremes  of  heat  and  cold,  but  reminding  us 
of  home  by  a  little  too  much  wind  as  well  as  by  its 
dry  atmosphere  and  bright  clear  skies.  As  for  the 
people,  when  I  tell  you  that  the  children  have  time 
to  play  and  to  study  religion,  that  the  young  girls 
are  all  handsome,  the  women  indifferent  to  fine 
clothes  and  that  the  men  apparently  lead  unanxious 
lives,  with  large  incomes  of  ease  and  leisure,  I  am 
sure  you  will  think  it  a  California  in  the  moral 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  I  57 

world — a  golden  state  of  society — and  I  only  wish 
it  might  tempt  you  to  seize  your  hat  and  dictionary 
and  hastily  come  to  see  for  yourself. 

It  seems  as  if  the  fashionable  character  foreign 
travel  assumes  in  our  day,  somewhat  veils  from  us 
its  greatest  pleasures  ;  yet  learning  to  enjoy  more 
and  more  every  day  its  hard-earned  pleasures — for 
travel  is  labor — and  strongly  as  I  would  urge  you 
to  come  and  see  how  rich  this  Old  World  is,  were 
I  to  return  as  an  apostle  from  Europe,  it  would  be 
to  protest  against  foreign  travel  in  some  of  its 
phases,  when  young  children  grow  up  robbed  of 
home  and  country  for  the  sake  of  speaking  with 
proper  accent  the  language  of  other  lands — their 
birthright  sold  for  a  mess  of  pottage.  You  feel 
somethinsr  like  diso-ust  in  hearinc:  Americans  boast 
of  having  lost  all  national  tastes  and  characteristics ; 
but  your  patriotism  is  at  first  moved  with  indigna- 
tion and  then  trembles  with  apprehension — when 
parents  proudly  tell  you  that  their  children  can 
neither  speak  nor  understand  a  word  of  their 
mother  tongue — lest  one  day  our  country  totter,  no 
longer  upheld  by  the  love  of  her  children. 

But  I  did  not  mean  to  say  all  this,  but  rather  to 
tell  you  how  our  quiet  life  in  this  quiet  place 
passes  in  quiet  delight.  According  to  French 
custom  breakfast  is  not  served  until  noon,  which 
gives  us  a  quiet  forenoon  (after  an  early  cup  of 
coffee  brought  to  our  room)  for  reading  and  study. 


158  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

About  two  o'clock  we  go  out  for  a  promenade  of 
some  two  or  three  hours,  when  we  sometimes 
amuse  ourselves  by  getting  lost  in  the  curious 
narrow  streets,  and  discovering  some  new  old 
church,  or  we  go  out  beyond  the  walls  of  the  city 
and  get  the  breath  from  green  fields,  or  we  read 
awhile  in  the  public  library,  or  sit  there  and  look 
at  the  old  fogies  who  seem  to  be  its  only  visitors, 
or  visit  the  museum  or  picture  gallery,  or  find 
some  novel  entertainment  in  these  ancient 
by-ways.  After  dinner  we  spend  the  evening 
practicing  French  with  our  charming  landlady  and 
our  charming  landlady's  pretty  daughter,  in  whose 
modest  little  parlor  a  circle  of  neighbors  nightly 
gathers.  By  the  way,  I  do  not  find  French  so 
universal  a  language  here,  as  I  expected — the 
babies  cry  in  good  plain  English — a  hint  from 
Nature  that  the  Eno;lish  tono-ue  is  to  become  the 
common  language  of  the  world ;  and  although  the 
patois  of  Provence  is  charmingly  musical,  the 
purity  of  its  accent  is  very  different  from  my  own. 

Avignon,  March,  1875. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  I  59 


XIV. 

AVIGNON— HLSTORY. 

WONDER  if  any  one  once  entangled  in 
the  snarl  of  streets  which  make  up  Avignon 
ever  got  out.  At  any  rate,  we  are  fairly 
entrapped,  and  patiently  wind  our  way  in  and  out 
and  roundabout,  reading  the  wonderful  history  of 
the  strange  old  place.  There  is  no  exaggeration  in 
calling  it  old,  for  Avignon  was  in  the  prime  of 
life  when  modern  Europe  was  born  ;  it  had  reached 
the  respectable  age  of  five  hundred  years  when 
Julius  Caesar  visited  it,  and  if  it  possessed  a 
spy-glass  it  doubtless  examined  the  features  of 
Hannibal  as  he  passed  near  by,  crossing  the  Rhone 
with  his  elephants  and  horses  on  his  circuitous 
route  from  Carthage  to  Rome. 

So  here  we  are,  sitting  quietly  down  by  the 
walls  of  this  ancient  relic  of  the  past,  listening  to 
the  tales  she  tells  us,  with  that  sort  of  reverence 
which  a  grandam's  reminiscences  inspire — -and, 
indeed,  like  a  veritable  and  venerable  old  grandam 
she  is,  seeming  to  have  naught  to  do  but  to  say 


l6o  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

her  prayers  and  tell  her  stories  of  the  past  ;  and 
those  stones  are  thrillino-  ones. 

Is  it  hard  to  realize  that  the  old  man  who  daily 
walks  with  measured  steps  before  your  door  has 
had  a  hot  and  fiery  youth  and  a  manhood  of  sturdy 
resistance  ;  that  between  the  golden  sunlight 
which  colored  the  locks  of  the  youth  and  the  silver 
starlight  now  reflected  from  those  same  locks, 
there  has  been  an  iron  age,  when  the  iron  has 
been  heated  red  and  white,  and  molded  by  the 
hammer  of  Destiny  into  the  fixed  form  before  you 
which  shall  never  change  but  in  breaking?  No 
less  hard  is  it  to  realize  that  this  hushed  and  quiet 
place  has  had  a  history  equally  remarkable,  and 
its  experience  seems  to  have  been  but  the  longer 
story  of  a  human  life.  It  has  a  story  of  its  own 
in  politics,  in  religion  and  in  love,  each  and  all 
carrying  us  to  the  very  height  of  the  region  of 
ronlance. 

The  breath  of  life  breathed  into  her  nostrils 
when  Avisfnon  was  born  must  have  been  from  the 
lips  of  Freedom  herself,  and  bitter  and  bloody  have 
been  the  struggles  with  which  through  centuries 
her  ever-republican  spirit  inspired  her  to  resist 
the  powerful  hands  of  various  covetous  masters. 
Sometimes  leading  a  separate  and  individual 
political  existence,  sometimes  divided  between 
different  owners,  sometimes  uniting  in  revolt, 
sometimes  yielding  under  the  hammer  of  internal 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  l6l 

revolution  to  the  besieging  army  who  had  in  vain 
battered  its  walls  from  without ;  in  the  latter  half 
of  its  history  taken  by  the  Saracens,  besieged  by 
Charles  Martel,  and  ending  an  existence  of  500 
years  as  a  republic  by  passing  under  the  sovereign 
rule  of  Toulouse  and  Provence,  from  whom  it  was 
bought  in  the  year  1348  by  Pope  Clement  VI.  for 
80,000  florins  in  gold,  and  finally,  in  the  year  i  797, 
relinquished  by  the  Pope,  it  became  a  part  of  the 
French  Republic. 

Its  religious  history  rivals  its  political  history. 
First  the  Polytheism  of  the  natives,  which  gave 
place  to  Druidism  brought  here  by  emigration  from 
Asia ;  here  and  there  through  the  neighboring 
country  we  still  see  the  old  Druid  altars.  The 
latter  religion  took  so  strong  a  root  that  even  to 
this  day,  after  so  long  a  reign  of  Christianity,  old 
druidical  superstitions  still  attach,  in  the  simple 
minds  of  the  peasants,  peculiar  virtues  to  certain 
spots,  and  give  rise  to  certain  superstitious 
practices. 

The  next  religion  seems  to  have  been  one 
where  people  worshiped  themseK^es,  for  there  was 
developed  a  sort  of  military  aristocracy  which 
abolished  Druidism,  and  the  Druid  bards  entered 
into  the  service  of  these  chiefs  and  sang  their 
praises.  Under  their  control  Avignon  became  so 
formidable  that  it  was  able  to  arrest  the  first 
Roman  invasions  of  Gaul.      Here  too  were  built 


1 62  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

temples  to  Hercules  and  Diana,  and  heathenism 
finally  gave  way  to  Christianity  about  1,300  years 
ago. 

At  the  present  day  Avignon  appears  veritably 
one  of  the  most  religious  spots  in  the  world. 
Here  religion  is  the  business  of  life.  The  churches, 
•of  which  there  are  thirty,  are  never  deserted,  while 
mass,  vespers  and  benediction  are  pleasures  not 
willingly  neglected.  You  cannot  walk  far  without 
coming  upon  a  church,  and  if  in  company  with 
Avignon  friends  they  will  be  sure  to  ask  you  at 
least  once  during  your  walk  to  enter  with  them 
while  they  kneel  in  prayer.  Drive  with  them,  and 
often  the  word  will  be  stopped  on  your  lips  as 
you  notice  by  their  crossing  themselves  that  they 
are  religiously  improving  the  temporary  silence. 
Sit  with  them  in  the  house,  and  during  the 
momentary  lull  of  conversation  your  friend  beside 
you  has  slipped  her  beads  from  her  pocket  and  is 
filling  in  the  odd  moments  with  prayer.  If  not  at 
your  own  hotel,  very  likely  at  the  neighboring 
one,  at  the  early  morning  hour  you  will  see  the 
mistress  of  the  hotel  and  the  whole  body  of  her 
servants  going  in  company  to  mass.  Religious 
observances  have  become  second,  or  rather  first, 
nature  with  the  people  of  Avignon,  and  few  are 
the  people  more  thoroughly  believing  in  their 
religion,  so  consistently  industrious  in  its  practice. 

The  principle  of   obedience   inculcated  by  the 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  1 63 

Church  is  felt  in  society.  "Will  you  sino-  the 
Marseillaise  ?  "  I  one  evenino-  said  to  some  friends 
who  had  been  singing  to  us  the  songs  of  the 
troubadors.  ''C'esi  defendu','  was  the  reply,  and  I 
did  not  find  it  strange  that  the  firing  off  of  that 
song  in  this  nitro-glycerine  nation  should  be 
prohibited.  Another  time  I  asked,  "  Have  you 
read  any  of  Dumas'  novels?"  "' C est  defendu,''  was 
again  the  answer,  ending  with  the  question  in  a 
tone  of  astonishment,  "  Is  it  not  prohibited  among 
you  to  read  Dumas  .'*"  Now  I  want  you  to  believe 
that  I  held  the  reputation  of  my  own  country  too 
dear  to  tell  these  innocent  people  that  with  us  the 
surest  way  to  secure  the  reading  of  a  book  would 
be  to  prohibit  it.  Fortunately  for  the  sale  of 
Dumas'  works  men  are  allowed  to  read  them. 

Avignon  is  a  fortified  city,  entirely  inclosed  by 
a  wall  about  three  miles  in  circumference,  pierced 
by  nine  different  gates  of  entrance.  The  citizens 
take  great  pride  in  these  walls  which  they  maintain 
in  perfect  repair,  and  which  are  said  to  be  the  most 
complete  specimen  of  the  military  architecture  of 
the  fourteenth  century.  The  present  walls  were 
built  by  the  Popes  during  the  Papal  occupation  of 
Avignon,  and  were  the  labor  of  twenty  years. 
But  at  a  very  early  period,  long  before  the  building 
of  these  walls,  Avignon  was  strongly  fortified,  and 
even  Rome  herself  believed  it  impregnable.  It 
is  owing  to  the  long  and  terrible  siege  which   it 


164  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

sustained  a2:ainst  Charles  Martel,  who  had  recourse 
to  every  known  engine  of  war  to  reduce  it,  that 
its  Roman  monuments  have  mostly  disappeared, 
but  yet  its  Museum  contains  a  goodly  collection  of 
Roman  stones  and  statuary  preserved,  or  from 
time  to  time  discovered  beneath  the  foundations 
of  buildings.  It  seems  very  strange  to  be  in  a 
museum  of  Roman  antiquities  collected  from  the 
streets  we  are  daily  walking,  and  we  begin  to  think 
we  are  indeed  getting  near  the  borders  of  the  Old 
World. 

Another  curiosity,  a  most  picturesque  one  it  is, 
is  the  remnant  of  the  first  bridge  built  across  the 
Rhone  ;  originally  it  was  782  feet  in  length  and 
was  composed  of  nineteen  arches,  reaching  from 
the  walls  of  Avignon  to  the  walls  of  her  opposite 
neighbor,  Villeneuve  ;  its  width  was  only  sufficient 
for  horsemen.  It  was  built  in  the  twelfth  century 
and  was  the  work  of  eleven  years.  Tirtie,  neglect 
and  the  Rhone  have  almost  destroyed  it.  Since 
1669  there  remain  but  four  arches,  which  are  now 
kept  carefully  repaired  ;  the  whole  bridge  was  of 
stone,  and  its  arches  are  very  beautiful  ;  from  the 
second  arch  is  a  small  Roman  chapel  projecting 
into  the  river  ;  in  this  chapel  was  buried  St. 
Benezet,  its  builder. 

Tradition  loves  to  strengthen  its  hold  on  the 
human  mind  by  fringing  itself  with  superstitions 
which     entancrle     our     fancv    and    knit     tOQfether 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  I  65 

imagination  and  memory.  Thus  embellished  comes 
down  to  us  the  historv  of  this  brid(Te.  Benezet, 
afterwards  canonized,  was  a  shepherd  youth  who 
became  the  chief  of  a  society  of  Freres  Pontifes, 
and  who  undertook  and  superintended  the  building 
of  this  bridge.  Tradition  adds,  that,  tending  the 
sheep  of  his  widowed  mother  on  the  Isle  of 
Barthelasse,  he  had  a  dream  commanding  him  to 
demand  of  the  authorities  of  Avignon  a  bridge 
across  the  river.  To  test  the  divinity  of  his 
commission  he  was  ordered  to  lift  an  immense  rock 
upon  his  shoulders  and  carry  it  to  the  river's  bank. 
As  he  accomplished  this  feat  which  seemed  a 
sentence  of  death,  his  dream  was  accepted  as  of 
divine  origin  and  obeyed. 

In  remote  heathen  ages  of  antiquity  there  were 
societies  or  brotherhoods  whom  some  one  has 
named  the  First  Free  Masons;  they  devoted  their 
lives  to  the  building  of  bridges  or  pontes,  and 
they  were  called  "  Pontiffs  ;"  these  "  pontiffs" 
always  commenced  their  labors  by  solemn  religious 
rites,  and  thus  the  buildini^  of  bridgfes  came  to 
assume  a  sacred  character.  After  the  birth  of 
Christ  and  the  establishment  of  the  Romish 
Church,  the  latter  very  wisely  copied  the  useful 
industries  of  Pagan  ages  and  thus  instituted  like 
societies  of  monks,  who  were  to  devote  their  lives 
to  the  building  of  bridges  and  keeping  them  in 
repair  ;  they  journeyed  along  all  the  great  rivers. 


1 66  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

dressed  in  a  lonf^  white  mantle,  on  which  a  bridge 
was  embroidered  in  colored  wool ;  they  were  named 
Fratres  Pontijici — or  Pontiff  Brothers — and  in 
memory  of  these  humble  workmen  we  have  to-day 
the  Pontiff  of  the  Church  of  Rome  ;  thus  the 
Church  has  borrowed  one  of  its  hiorhest  titles  from 
Pafjanism. 

Though  war  with  its  terrible  pen  has  badly 
scratched  the  records  of  the  Roman  Empire,  those 
of  the  Romish  Church  are  still  plainly  legible. 
During  the  greater  part  of  the  fourteenth  century 
Avignon,  instead  of  Rome,  was  the  residence  of 
the  Pope,  and  here  stands  the  Papal  palace-fortress. 
This  enormous  mass  of  stone  was  the  work  of 
thirty-four  years,  and  the  historian  of  the  Cathedral 
of  Cologne  calls  it  the  largest  and  most  complete 
monument  of  the  Middle  Agfes,  while  an  historian 
of  those  Ages  calls  it  "the  strongest  building  in 
the  world."  Rich  as  was  its  interior,  its  exterior 
presented  but  plain  walls  of  stone  wholly  without 
ornament ;  indeed  it  seems  that,  as  in  the  colossal 
Memnon,  ornament  would  detract  from  its 
grandeur.  On  one  side  of  the  palace,  and  winding 
round  into  the  lower  part. of  the  town,  is  a  street 
hollowed  out  many  feet  deep  in  the  solid  rock.  In 
building  the  palace  an  arch  was  thrown  across  a 
part  of  this  defile,  and  a  portion  of  the  palace 
raised  upon  it.  It  is,  perhaps,  from  this  passage 
that  one  gets  the    most  impressive  view   of  the 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  1 67 

palace  ;  but  look  at  it  from  where  you  will  you  are 
overwhelmed  by  its  expression  of  massive  strength. 
There  is  no  regularity  in  its  architecture  except 
that  of  plainness ;  its  towers  are  unequal  ;  its 
windows  follow  no  regular  line ;  the  stairways 
pierce  their  way  through  the  solid  wall  hiding 
secret  prisons  in  its  thickness. 

But  what  davs  it  has  seen,  when  its  interior 
blazed  with  the  gold  of  costly  decoration  and 
displayed  the  colors  of  the  masterpieces  of  the 
great  artists  of  the  world  ;  when  the  Papal  Court 
made  of  Avignon  a  center  of  fashion  and  literature, 
to  which  flowed  a  large  population  of  every  class, 
seeking  to  enjoy  the  splendors  of  the  Court  or  to 
profit  by  the  favor  of  the  Pontifical  Sovereign. 

By  the  interior  of  the  court  of  the  palace  one 
reached  the  hanging  gardens  of  Clement  VI.,  upon 
which  opened  superb  saloons,  and  here  he  was 
wont  to  receive  the  beautiful  and  noble  ladies  of 
his  Court. 

It  was  dismantled  of  all  these  beauties  in  the 
revolution  of  i  793,  when  such  horrors  were  enacted 
W'ithin  its  walls  as  those  of  La  Glaciere.  This 
was  a  part  of  the  palace,  where  victims,  after  a 
mock  trial,  were  dismissed  through  a  door  in  the 
seventh  or  eighth  story  of  the  building,  from  which 
they  stepped  into  empty  space,  and  their  bones 
were  destroyed  by  the  action  of  a  bed  of  lime 
prepared  to  receive  them. 


1 68  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

To-day,  In  these  once  splendid  halls,  we  see  but 
the  rough  furniture  of  the  soldiers'  barracks^  and 
at  the  windows,  instead  of  the  benign  face  of  the 
priest  solemnly  blessing  the  people  or  bestowing  an 
unexpected  pardon  on  some  condemned  criminal 
passing  to  the  execution  of  his  sentence,  we  see 
hung  out  to  dry  the  parti-colored  undergarments 
of  the  soldiers. 

Who  would    not    feel    the   power  of   historical 

association  as  he  stands  on  this  hill  ?     Once  the  site 

of  the  Temple  of  Hercules  and  of  the  habitations 

of  its  pagan  priests,  it  looked  down  on  the  Roman 

theatre  built  against  the  rocky  side  of  the  hill,  and 

the  hippodrome  whose  actual  site  has  been  traced 

by  its  ruins.      Next  we  see  it  wearing  the  crown 

of    Rome    and    drawing    to    it    the    eyes    of    all 

Christendom,  as  it  shines,  now  resplendent  in  war, 

now  in  luxury  and  splendor.      To-day  a  picture, 

curious    still,    as,     standing    before     its     ancient 

Cathedral  surmounted  by  its  colossal  gilded  statue 

of  the  Virgin,  you  look  down  upon  the  exercises 

of  soldiers  drilling,  drilling,  drilling  from  morning 

till  night  ;    and  as  you  travel  throu^^h   Southern 

France  and  see  everywhere  this  same  persistent, 

untiring  military  labor,  you    easily   fall  with    the 

people  into  a  serious,  thoughtful  frame  of  mind, 

your  lips  close  in  silence  upon  questions  of  the 

future,  but  you  think  and  think,  and  you  feel  that 

every  man  around  you  is  thinking. 

Avignon,  April,  1875. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  1 69 


XV. 

SAVOY— URIAGE—MT.  CENLS  TUNNEL— ITALY. 

\E  are  going  to  Savoy,"  said  we  one 
fine  morning  to  our  friends  in  Paris, 
and  we  said  it  with  a  feeling  of 
self-complacency  mingled,  I  fear,  with  a  tinge  of 
self-conceit,  as  if — about  to  do  something  aside 
from  the  usual  line — we  were  showing  a  little 
originality  and  a  great  deal  of  good  taste.  "  To 
Savoy  }''  said  a  friend,  whose  kindness,  refined 
taste  and  mental  culture  had  made  his  society 
charming,  "then  by  all  means  stop  at  Uriage — it 
is  at  the  entrance  of  Savoy,  the  door  of  Paradise. 
Uriage  is  a  valley  whose  charms  are  indescribable, 
so  unique  in  character  as  to  be  incomparable. 
When  the  hand  of  God  scooped  out  that  lovely 
valley,  at  His  divine  touch  sprung  forth  every- 
where life  and  beautv ;  the  mountains  which 
surround  it  are  an  unbroken  picture  of  verdure, 
where  vine,  field  and  wooded  height  rival  each 
the  other's  attractions  ;  there,  far  above  your  head, 
the  cattle  feed,  and  at  your  feet  are  springs  of  life 
and  health.  In  the  valley  you  remember,  and  love 
11 


170  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

more  than  ever,  all  your  friends  ;  on  the  heights 
you  converse  with  God.  When  the  disgrace  of 
Sedan  mantled  my  brow  with  a  blush  of  shame 
which  would  not  fade ;  when,  desperate  and 
exhausted  by  fruitless  labors  in  my  own  humble 
sphere,  and  no  longer  able  to  restrain  my 
indignation  against  those  who  no  more  merited  to 
bear  the  name  of  Frenchmen,  I  sought  the  plateaus 
of  the  Alps — it  was  only  at  Uriage — where  in 
solitude,  day  after  day,  from  morn  to  night,  I 
climbed  the  highest  summits  as  if  there  I  might 
come  nearer  to  God — that  I  at  last  found  the 
calm  of  which  I  had  so  much  need,  and  the 
courage  to  again  take  up  life's  duties  and  carry 
them  to  the  end.  By  all  means,  then,  stop  you  at 
Uriage,  and  permit  me  to  offer  you  for  reading 
there  some  verses  which  the  spirit  of  the  scene 
inspired  me  to  write." 

Thus  we  bade  adieu  to  beautiful  Paris  with 
much  less  regfret  than  we  could  have  done  had  our 
anticipations  been  less  enthusiastic;  and  all  the  way 
on  our  two  days'  journey  we  felt  thankful  that  the 
pleasures  of  the  traveler  were  ours.  On  the  after- 
noon of  the  second  day,  as  we  were  congratulating 
ourselves  on  the  commencement  of  our  mountain 
travel,  a  tempest  arose;  the  thunder  rolled,  rolled, 
rolled,  from  mountain  to  mountain,  and  of  course 
we  had  to  quote  Byron,  who  had  told  us  all  about 
it,  and  our  enthusiasm  was  not  at  all  dampened  by 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  I7I 

the  heavy  shower.  At  last  we  arrived  at  Uriage, 
and  there  we  stayed  three  days,  waitinj;^  in  vain  for 
the  pouring  rain  to  cease  and  the  clouds  to  lift 
their  impenetrable  veil  from  the  mountains.  We 
had  a  large,  damp  and  uncomfortable  room  on  the 
ground  Hoor  of  a  house,  whose  original  purpose  I 
am  not  sure  of.  I  only  know  that  the  light  entered 
only  by  a  glass  door,  outside  of  which  were  barn- 
doors that  we  used  to  shut  at  nioht.  On  the  mantel- 
shelf  was  the  fine  French  clock  which  you  find 
everywhere  in  France — even  in  the  most  ordinary 
places.  It  is,  however,  never  running  ;  this  always 
annoys  me,  and  I  have  made  it  my  regular  habit  in 
going  up  and  down,  and  back  and  forth,  through  the 
country,  to  wind  up  and  regulate  all  the  clocks  in 
France,  until  I  begin  to  be  afraid  of  being  a  sort 
of  rival  to  Old  Mortality.  Besides  the  clock 
there  was  an  unpainted  table,  a  bed  and  two  chairs, 
all  at  straggling  distances  from  each  other  ;  and 
the  boards  of  the  floor  looked  aghast  at  the  solitary 
deer-skin,  which  seemed  to  dwindle  to  the  size  of  a 
mouse.  Twice  a  day  we  waded  through  mud  and 
rain  an  eighth  of  a  mile,  to  the  house  where  the 
table  was  spread,  and  once  we  ventured  to  the 
baths — for  Uriage  is  a  watering-place  famous  for 
its  saline  springs — and  we  thought  we  had  never 
seen  a  better,  since  it  watered  all  the  time.  From 
four  o'clock  each  morning  until  nearly  noon,  every 
half-hour  a  covered  carriage  stopped  at  our  door, 


1/2  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

to  convey  visitors  to  the  baths,  and  we  were 
awakened  by  the  voice  of  the  driver  shouting, 
"  En  voiture,  pour  retablissenient,  en  voitiux,  pour 
les  bains  V  as  if  it  were  worth  while  to  pay  for 
being  soaked  in  that  place.  In  vain  we  longed  to 
see  those  inspiring  summits,  those  mountain  walls 
in  verdure  clad,  where  our  friend  had  tasted  of  the 
healing  plant ;  the  monotonous  sound  of  the  rain 
was  the  only  liivine  whisper  we  heard,  and  the 
persistent  cloud  shut  out  the  heaven  we  longed  for. 
What  should  we  do  ?  There  we  were,  armed  and 
equipped  with  our  poetry  furnished  expressly  for 
the  occasion,  and  no  prospect  of  our  being  able  to 
make  use  of  it  for  days  or  weeks  to  come;  for  we 
found  on  inquiry  that  the  weather  had  been  the 
same  nearly  all  Summer;  moreover,  we  were  told 
by  one  of  the  guests — whom  we  had  vainly  tried 
to  persuade  from  her  belief  that  the  howling  of  a 
dog  was  a  fatal  prophecy,  but  who  most  decidedly 
answered  that  it  must  be  true,  for  the  thing  had 
happened  in  her  house — that  a  famous  astrologer 
of  Marseilles  had  foretold  that  the  storm  was  to 
continue  nine  days  longer.  Already  we  believed  in 
the  astrologer,  and,  lest  we  should  get  to  believing 
in  a  good  many  other  things,  we  concluded  to  take 
our  poetry  and  go  in  search  of  some  place  where 
it  would  fit. 

A  few  hours  by  rail   brought  us  to  Chambery, 
which,  though  seen  (or  unseen)  mostly  by  night, 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  I  73 

made  its  own  photograph  in  our  mind.  Our  hotel 
was  built  on  the  quay,  the  carriage-road,  only, 
intervening  between  the  river  wall  and  the  house. 
The  river  was  the  Laisse  ;  swollen  by  the  recent^ 
rains,  yet  smooth  for  so  rapid  a  stream,  its  black 
waters  as  they  rushed  by  seemed  almost  to  shout 
their  music  in  our  ears  the  whole  nieht  lonp-.' 
Early  morning  brought  me  to  the  window,  almost- 
astonished  that  with  such  swiftness  the  river  had 
not  run  itself  dry  ;  but  there  it  still  was,  illustrating 
the  old  simile,  as,  self-absorbed,  it,  hastened  with 
unslackened  speed  to  the  valley  beyond.  A  week 
later,  however,  the  black,  noisy  river  had  shrunk 
into  a  shallow,  narrow  stream,  and  had  it  been  by 
the  Laisse  that  the  classic  sluggard  laid  himsell 
down  to  wait  for  the  river  to  dry  up  that  he  might 
cross,  he  would  not  have  been  so  foolish  after  all.^ 

The  not  distant  neighborhood  of  the  Mont  Cenis 
tunnel  allured  us  from  Chambery  into  Italy.  Itis^ 
with  an  uncertain  feeling  of  timidity  or  awe  that 
one  enters  upon  his  first  passage  through  the 
grand  tunnel  of  the  Alps.  The  engine  labored 
slowly  up  the  steep  acclivity,  and  miserly  views 
opened  into  wonderful  valleys  beyond  and  snow- 
clad  heights  above,  rendering  us  speechless  as 
the  train  almost  staggered  up  the  dizzy  path.  At 
last  we  reached  the  Tunnel. 

As  we  entered  its  darkness  1  took  one  hasty, 
daylight  glance  around  me,  and  as  I  looked  at  my 


174  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

opposite  neighbor  his  presence  inspired  me  with 
more  courage  than  that  of  my  right-hand  neighbor; 
for  was  not  the  former  a  fine  old  priest  whose  pro- 
fession bespoke  safe  passage  through  the  deepest 
and  darkest  of  tunnels,  yet  who  showed  that  he 
merited  this  world  too,  by  the  good  use  he  made 
of  it;  for  did  he  not  lovingly  hold  in  his  embrace 
a  goodly  knapsack  from,  which  protruded  the  necks 
of  two  well-filled  bottles,  and  did  I  not  recall  to 
myself  as  I  looked  at  him  the  story  of  the  wise 
virgin  who  took  her  oil  with  her?  From  the  priest 
and  his  wine-bottles  my  eye  wandered  to  a  notice 
over  his  head,  cautioning  passengers  against  alarm 
at  any  explosion  they  might  hear,  as,  the  tunnel 
being  under  repairs,  torpedoes  were  placed  on  the 
track  to  warn  workmen  of  the  approach  of  the 
train.  The  rest  of  the  passage  I  spent  in  bracing 
my  nerves  against  the  expected  shock,  and  was 
almost  disappointed  at  not  hearing  a  single  explo- 
sion. We  were  just  twenty-three  minutes  in 
passing  through  the  tunnel,  and  the  first  five  were 
longer  than  all  the  rest.  The  first  warning  we  had 
of  having  nearly  completed  the  passage  was  the 
sight  of  a  red  glowing  furnace  through  a  semi- 
circular opening;  immediately  afterward  we  flew 
by  another  furnace,  and  then  we  knew — though 
the  illusion  was  the  same  in  spite  of  our  knowing 
— that  those  red-hot  furnaces  were  but  glimpses 
of  the  sun-lighted  earth. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  I  75 

At  last  we  emerofed  from  the  tunnel  and  looked 
for  the  first  time  in  our  lives  on  fair  Italy  beneath 
us.  It  would  take  another  pen  than  mine  to  tell 
you  of  that  wonderful  descent  of  the  Alps;  we 
were  without  words,  and  could  but  clasp  each 
other's  hands  in  silence.  Soon  tunnel  followed 
tunnel,  near  together  as  if  to  keep  each  other  in 
countenance  for  daring  to  be  tunnels  after  the  great 
one  we  had  just  left;  sometimes  they  so  nearly 
joined  each  other  that  we  had  but  a  short  glimpse 
as  we  hurried  over  some  mountain  torrent,  foaming 
and  leaping  almost  perpendicularly  down,  down, 
down,  whither  we  could  not  tell;  next  we  tremble 
as  the  yawning  chasm  beneath  the  bridge  we  cross 
frowns  and  threatens  with  the  blackness  of  its 
immeasurable  depths.  And  so  for  many  a  mile  we 
rush  through  tunnel  after  tunnel,  over  chasm  after 
chasm,  and  mountain  torrent  after  mountain  tor- 
rent, till  closing  day  finds  us  far  down  the  Italian 
Alps.  As  we  descend,  it  is  the  heights  above  us 
rather  than  the  lauQ^hino-  fields  below  that  draw  our 
eyes  with  irresistible  power.  It  was  our  first 
sunset  in  Italy;  the  mountains  lifted  their  snowy 
caps  to  salute  the  retiring  sun;  the  dark  shadows 
slowly  rose  higher  and  higher,  till  their  giant 
forms  rivaled  the  mountains  in  height ;  the  soft 
clouds  hovered  in  gentle  beauty — half  of  earth 
and  half  of  heaven — and  when  the  sun,  reluctantly 
and   slowly,  stooped  and  imprinted  its  final  good- 


176  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

night  kiss  on  earth's  brow,  they  blushed,  and 
blushing,  hid  in  roseate  beauty  the  now  lonely 
mountain  top. 

Turin,  Aitgust,  1875. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  I  77 


XVI. 

MILAN— PALACE  AND  CATHEDRAL. 

)JD  you  ever,  when  a  little  boy,  find  yourself 
drawn  right  towards  the  place  where  all 
sorts  of  things  pleasing  to  the  taste 
appealed  to  the  only  two  senses  the  old-fashioned 
boy  was  supposed  to  possess,  taste  and  smell  ?  And 
did  you  ever  in  your  impatience  snatch  at  some 
delicious  morsel  and  bite  into  it  only  to  drop  it 
from  your  mouth  and  run  for  a  draught  of  cold 
water  '^  That  was  the  way  we  last  week  took  a 
taste  of  Italy.  It  was  so  inviting,  and,  taking  a 
generous  bite,  our  teeth  came  right  down  on  the 
Milan  Cathedral.  It  was  a  luscious  morsel,  but 
very  hot,  and  we  dropped  it  from  our  mouths  and 
are  running  away  as  fast  as  we  can  in  search  of  a 
draught  of  cool  air.  Italy  is  one  of  those  places 
of  which  one  always  hears  so  much  that  one 
doubts  if  its  charms  be  not  exaggerated,  and  I 
have  always  thought  I  should  be  quite  content  to 
visit  Europe  without  seeing  Italy;  but  now  I 
should  be  almost  content  to  visit  Italy  without 
seeing  the  rest  of  Europe.  To  be  sure  we  saw  the 
little  we  did  see  in  the  perfection  of  its  natural 
beauty;  everywhere  its  full  harvests  just  on  the 
eve  of   ripening,    everywhere    the    unusual  rains 


178  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

having  preserved  a  Spring-like  verdure  ;  and  then 
its  sky  is  all  that  poets  say.  Our  California  skies 
have  a  brilliant  clearness  like  the  sparkle  of  a 
diamond,  but  here,  though  clear,  the  same  charm- 
ing softness  that  envelops  the  earth  pervades  also 
the  sky  ;  landscape,  sky  and  atmosphere  seem  to 
be  tempered  with  a  poetic  ideality  wholly  inde- 
scribable. 

Doubtless  the  contrast  with  France  heightened 
this  impression,  for  the  latter  country,  through 
which  I  have  three  times  traveled  from  north  to 
south,  is  of  comparatively  tame  scenery,  which  the 
gala  costume  of  Spring  flowers  greatly  improves. 
I  hope  to  be  pardoned  for  finding  a  comparison 
between  the  country  and  the  people  of  France, 
and  saying  that  each  owes  a  greater  charm  to  Art 
than  to  Nature. 

"  Art  is  man's  nature  ere  the  earth  he  trod." 

In  every  other  nation  I  have  found  some  striking 
physical  beauty,  as  the  complexion  of  the  English, 
and  the  almost  universal  perfection  of  the  teeth  of 
the  Italians,  but  the  French  seem  to  have  done 
with  their  men  and  women  as  with  their  f^ibrics — 
sent  their  choicest  specimens  abroad.  At  home 
they  are  all  homely,  for  the  most  part  even  to 
uirliness;  but  here  comes  in  the  charm  of  artificial 
grace,  and  their  perfect  manners  captivate  you  and 
blind  you  to  their  want  of  beauty.  A  Frenchman 
is  born  polite,  and  I  have  no  doubt  the  first  thing 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  I  79 

a  French  baby  does  when  a  hat  is  put  on  his  head 
is  to  raise  it,  A  French  woman  is  born  with  all 
the  graces  which  more  awkward  nations  must 
acquire  by  years  of  training. 

The  Itahans,  on  the  other  hand,  are  a  very  hand- 
some people;  but  here  I  may  be  prejudiced,  for  had 
they  not  spoken  I  should  have  thought  myself 
among  Americans,  so  much  do  they  resemble  us. 
In  northern  Italy  it  is  not  the  black,  but  the  blue 
or  gray  eye  that  predominates,  with  dark  hair 
and  medium  complexion.  The  first  Italian  word  I 
heard  was  "  signora,"  and  I  thought  it  the  prettiest 
appellation  that  ever  woman  was  addressed  by. 
The  different  titles  of  address  make  one  of  the 
curious  features  of  travel.  I  was  amused  in 
Ireland  at  being  called  "your  honor,"  the  English 
"  missus,"  seems  vulgar,  the  French  "  madame  " 
has  an  offensive  resemblance  to  some  Eno^lish 
monosyllables,  and  the  Italian  "signora"  is  very 
musical. 

Our  first  stopping-place  in  Italy  was  Turin, 
Victor  Emmanuel's  Capital  when  he  was  King  of 
only  one  corner  of  Italy.  It  is  a  clean  and  pretty 
enough  little  city  ;  one  of  its  principal  features  is 
its  large,  paved  and  unshaded  squares,  which, 
though  they  must  be  much  healthier  than  the 
usual  narrow  streets  of  Italy,  are  very  uncomfort- 
able to  cross  in  the  heat  of  day.  Hie  King's 
palace    is    one    of  the    roughest,     homeliest    and 


l8o  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

most  unpretending  buildings,  on  the  outside,  that 
ever  was  built  for  a  palace,  hardly  handsome 
enough  for  a  stable;  its  interior  is  rich.  The  apart- 
ments looked  rather  small  for  a  palace,  but  the 
frescoed  ceilings  and  paintings  were  beautiful, 
while  the  wood-work  was,  for  the  most  part, 
elaborately  carved,  and  all  of  it  was  entirely 
covered  with  gilding.  One  room — the  private 
salon,  I  believe,  of  the  father  of  the  present  King 
— had  its  walls  entirely  composed  of  panels  fitted 
together  of  Japanese  inlaid  work,  like  the  beautiful 
tables,  cabinets,  etc.,  so  common  with  us  ;  the 
heavy  silk  draperies  of  the  windows  were  woven 
expressly  to  match  the  paneled  walls,  and  the 
white  drapery  underneath  was  of  silk,  delicate  and 
transparent  as  lace;  the  beautifully  frescoed  dome 
which  made  the  ceiling,  completed  the  original 
style  of  the  room. 

The  most  memorable  event  of  our  stay  in  Turin 
wasan  evening  spent  with  Moleschott.or  Professori 
Moleschotti,  as  he  is  called  here,  the  great  German 
physiologist  and  apostle  of  modern  rationalism, 
author  of  the  "  Kreislauf  des  Lebens."  He  is 
a  splendid-looking,  corpulent,  fair-complexioned 
German,  with  so  charming  a  family  that  you 
wonder  he  does  not  believe  in  Immortality  from 
the  mere  strong  desire  of  loving  and  being  loved 
by  them  forever.  He  impresses  you  as  a  man  of 
immense  intellect,   but  of  still  greater  heart  and 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  l8l 

kindness,  and  I  am  sure  he  practices  the  profession 
that  he  loves  beyond  aught  else,  with  a  tenderness 
and  sympathy  which  many  a  physician  lacks. 

Milan  is  a  larger  and  finer  place  than  Turin, 
and  we  found  it,  too,  a  great  deal  hotter.  We 
selected  a  hotel  near  to  the  great  Cathedral,  in 
order  to  see  as  much  as  possible  of  it  during  our 
short  stay  there.  Of  course  it  is  useless  for  me  to 
tell  you  what  it  is,  for  everybody  has  read  some 
description  of  this  marble  wonder  of  the  world 
with  its  two  thousand  marble  statues  on  its 
exterior  walls;  and  if,  by  chance,  any  one  has  not 
read  of  it,  I  should  shrink  from  attempting  its 
description.  I  can  only  say  that,  however  other 
edifices  have  overwhelmed  with  their  grandeur  or 
transformed  themselves  by  the  great  associations 
connected  with  them,  this  is  the  first  structure  I 
have  ever  seen  that  represented  the  very  spirit 
of  poetry,  embodied  and  vivified  ;  it  is  the  ideal 
realized,  and  imagination  can  conceive  nothino- 
more  beautiful,  more  perfect. 

Although  it  was  Sunday  and  mass  was  being  said, 
the  custodians  of  the  treasures  of  the  Cathedral 
were  in  attendance  upon  strangers,  and  we  were 
not  obliged  to  await  the  close  of  service.  After 
seeing  the  treasures,  of  which  I  only  remember 
two  life-sized  statues  of  solid  silver  and  several 
busts  of  the  same  metal,  all  richly  inlaid  with 
precious  stones,  an  immense  cross  several  feet  in 


l82  LETTERS  OF  TRAVEL. 

length  of  solid  gold,  some  carved  Ivory  dating 
from  the  fifth  century  and  thereabouts,  and  any 
quantity  of  sacred  implements  and  treasures  in 
gold  and  silver,  jeweled  and  without  jewels,  we 
descended  into  the  tomb  or  subterranean  chapel  of 
St.  Carlo  Borromeo.  The  dimensions  of  this  I 
must  guess  at  ;  its  walls  must  have  been  some 
eight  or  nine  feet  in  height,  of  which  the  upper 
three  feet  were  a  cornice  of  solid  silver,  wrought  by 
the  silversmith  into  pictures  in  high  relief,  for  the 
most  part  scenes  in  the  life  of  the  saint,  one  repre- 
senting him  in  his  ministrations  among  the  dead 
and  dying  at  the  time  of  the  plague ;  vertical 
pilasters  of  silver  separated  the  pictures  and 
descended  nearly  to  the  floor  ;  a  silver  altar  stood 
before  the  silver  sarcophagus  of  the  saint,  and 
we  examined  the  whole  by  the  light  of  candles 
in  the  silver  candlesticks  of  the  altar,  and  by 
torches  held  in  the  hands  of  the  two  Guards  who 
accompanied  us.  After  examining  the  walls  and 
altar,  the  custodian,  by  turning  a  revolving  handle 
at  the  side,  caused  the  wrought  silver  front  of 
the  sarcophagus  to  descend,  and  there  was  seen 
the  coffin  of  plates  of  crown  glass,  with  silver 
trimmings,  and  the  body  of  the  saint  inside;  outside 
were  hung  strings  of  rings  and  jewels  offered  by 
visitors,  many  of  royal  rank  ;  among  other  things 
a  golden  cross,  the  offering  of  Cardinal  Wiseman. 
The  body  presented   the  appearance  of  a  brown 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  1 83 

mummy,  the  features  crumbling  Into  decay.  It 
was  dressed  in  magnificent  robes  of  cloth  of  gold, 
gloves  upon  the  hands,  a  large  topaz  ring  on  one 
finger  outside  of  the  glove.  Jewels  upon  jewels, 
sacred  and  regal  insignia,  glittered  around  and 
upon  the  body.  Over  his  breast  was  suspended  a 
cross  some  five  inches  in  length  of  large  emeralds 
set  in  QTold  and  valued  at  five  millions  of  francs. 
Over  his  head  was  suspended  a  rather  delicate 
crown  of  gold  set  with  large  rich  pearls,  said  to  be 
of  inestimable  value.  The  work  of  the  silver- 
smiths, we  were  told,  was  given  as  a  tribute  of 
love ;  and  without  counting  the  labor,  and  the 
value  of  the  emerald  cross  and  the  crown,  we 
computed  the  value  as  given  to  us  of  the  solid 
silver  and  the  other  jewels,  to  be  about  three 
millions  of  our  dollars.  As  we  paid  our  five  francs 
and  ascended  again,  we  found  something  inhar- 
monious in  such  costly  decoration  of  the  tomb  of 
one  who,  when  alive,  sold  all  that  he  had  and  gave 
it  to  the  poor.  We  spent  the  sultry  evening  in 
the  open  square  before  the  Cathedral,  without 
bonnet,  shawl  or  gloves,  fanning  and  cooling  our- 
selves with  ices  as  we  watched  the  moon  rise  and 
shed  its  silver  light  on  the  white  glory  of  the 
marble  roof,  with  its  hundred  turrets  and 
numberless  statues  glistening  in  purity  and  beauty. 

M  I  LAN,  August,  1 875. 


184  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


XVII. 

MILAN— GALLERIA  VITTORIO— ITALIAN  LAKES. 

\EXT  to  that  great  poem  in  stone,  the 
Cathedral  of  Milan,  the  object  of  most 
interest  to  us  there  was  the  Galleria 
Vittorio  Emmanuele,  and  this  interested  the  more 
as  I  could  not  help  thinking  how  well  such  a 
promenade  was  adapted  to  the  climate  and  wants 
of  our  own  city,  inasmuch  as  it  would  shelter  from 
the  wind  and  dust,  be  as  light  as  the  open  street, 
and  serve  as  a  brilliant  evening  promenade.  The 
Galleria  is  a  section  of  two  streets  crossing  each 
other  at  right  angfles,  havino-  thus  the  form  of  a 
Latin  cross  ;  it  is  entirely  roofed  over  with  glass, 
and  at  its  four  entrances  are  arches  ornamented 
with  statues  and  surmounted  with  frescoes  repre- 
senting respectively  Science,  Industry,  Art  and 
Agriculture.  It  is  the  grandest  and  most  beautiful 
crystal  arcade  in  all  Europe,  and  its  cost  was  about 
a  million  and  a  half  dollars  of  our  money.  There 
are,  in  all,  twenty-four  statues;  the  arcade  is  three 
hundred  and  twenty  yards  in  length,  and  is,  of 
course,    for    pedestrians    only;  its  pavement  is  a 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  1 85 

mosiac  of  blocks  of  various  colored  marbles,  laid 
so  as  to  represent  a  variety  of  designs  ;  the  width 
of  each  of  the  four  promenades  radiating  from  its 
center  is  forty-eight  feet ;  the  glass  roof  being  at  a 
height  of  considerably  over  two  hundred  feet  from 
the  ground;  the  center  of  the  Galleria  is  an  octagon 
formed  by  the  four  arms  of  the  cross  alternating 
with  four  intervening  buildings,  whose  elegant 
fronts  are  richly  ornamented  with  statues  and 
surmounted  by  elegant  frescoes  which  cover  the 
whole  surface  of  the  semi-circular  upper  stories  of 
the  buildings,  and  represent  respectively,  Europe, 
Asia,  Africa  and  America.  The  designs  of  these 
frescoes  were  all  good,  but  of  course  that  of  our 
own  land  interested  us  most.  Of  this  the  central 
figure  was  America  crowned  ;  at  her  left  hand  an 
Indian  with  bow,  arrows,  etc.;  between  these  two 
a  medallion  bearing  the  profiles  of  Columbus  and 
Washington  and  their  names  around  the  margin  ; 
the  face  of  America  is  turned  toward  the  sea  to 
which  her  right  hand  points,  and  on  whose  shore 
two  negroes  are  rolling  bales  of  cotton  into  an 
open  boat,  while  near  them  are  growing  sugar- 
cane, tobacco,  cocoa-palm  trees,  etc.  The  whole 
picture  is  lighted  by  the  rays  of  the  setting-sun 
seen  in  the  distance  beyond  the  open  sea  which 
forms  the  horizon  of  the  picture.  Over  this 
central  octagon  rises  a  glass  dome  one  hundred 
and  eighteen  feet  m  height,  and  here  it  is 
12 


1 86  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

illuminated  by  a  close  line  of  gas-jets  forming' 
eight  arches  of  light  around  the  base  of  the 
dome. 

The  off-branching  streets  are  not  less  brilliant, 
there  being  two  thousand  gas-jets  in  all.  The 
streets  are  lined  on  each  side  with  building's  four 
or  five  stories  in  height,  with  elegantly  orna- 
mented fronts.  The  lower  two  stories  of  these 
buildings  are  occupied  as  shops  for  articles  of 
elegance  and  luxury  and  as  restaurants.  Around 
the  central  space  under  the  dome,  and  also  in  front 
of  all  the  restaurants,  are  chairs  and  tables,  where 
you  may  seat  yourself,  and,  sipping  your  chocolate, 
coffee,  or  ice,  watch  the  gay  promenaders  and 
enjoy  the  out-of-door  life  of  an  Italian  city. 

From  Milan  we  turned  our  faces  again  north- 
ward, to  the  lakes  Como  and  Maggiore,  and  here 
we  were  drawn  in  by  some  circular  tickets  that  we 
supposed  would  be  as  convenient  as  other  tourist- 
tickets  which  we  have  sometimes  found  to  save 
much  trouble.  We  tried  to  ascertain  who  gained 
and  who  lost — those  who  traveled  with  them,  or 
those  who  traveled  without  them — and  finally 
decided  that  those  who  bought  circular  tickets 
paid  the  most,  while  those  who  did  not  buy  them 
saved  nothing,  and  the  only  advantage  on  either 
side  was  that  if  you  had  not  the  tickets  you  could 
stop  where  you  wanted  to,  but  if  you  had  them 
you  could  stop  where  you  didn't  want  to. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  1 87 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  effect  of  these 
Itahan  lakes,  and  I  did  not  before  know  that  earth 
could  be  so  beautiful  ;  only  to  see  them  makes  one 
feel  "this  is  worth  being  born  for;  this  pays  for 
having  lived  ;  after  such  a  dream  of  beauty  it  is 
easier  to  accept  the  dreamless  sleep  which  comes 
to  all."  Were  I  to  speak  of  the  one  impression 
above  all  others  which  this  beauty  made  upon  me, 
it  would  be  of  its  unrealness.  The  wonderful, 
indescribable  softness  and  peculiar  light,  made  me 
feel  as  if  the  whole  were  some  optical  illusion,  and 
that  were  I  to  seek  the  opposite  shore  there  would 
be  nothing  there  ;  while  the  water  before  me  was 
not  water  but  some  mysterious  element  unknown 
to  human  chemistry;  and  were  I  to  write  a  poem 
here  it  would  be  of  some  mortal  gazing  and  drink- 
ing in  the  strange  beauty  before  him  until  he 
changed  into  an  ethereal  being,  and  becoming  one 
with  the  scene,  hovered  evermore  on  the  other 
side  of  the  boundary  line  between  the  real  and  the 
unreal,  luring  each  soul  who  came  to  drink  of  this 
beauty  to  leave  the  realm  of  reality  to  forever- 
more  embosom  himself  in  this  loveliness,  and 
dream  himself  away  into  the  spirit  of  eternal 
beauty  and  eternal  mystery.  Doubtless  this 
extreme  beauty  is  not  a  constant  picture,  and  at 
this  time  was  the  effect  of  excessive  heat  on  the 
atmosphere. 

One  can  make  the  trip  through  Lake  Como  by 


1 88  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

Steamer  in  about  four  hours;  at  the  same  time  it  is 
one  of  the  most  alluring  places  to  spend  days,  and 
the  arrangements  are  admirably  convenient  for 
such  loiterinof.  Fine  hotels  and  beautiful  villas 
ornament  the  encircling  shores,  which  are  one 
continuous  garden  draped  in  the  mingled  gray 
and  green  of  the  olive  and  the  vine;  they  rise  more 
or  less  abruptly  from  the  bosom  of  the  lake, 
from  hundreds  to  thousands  of  feet  in  height, 
dotted  far,  far  up  their  slopes,  often  in  seemingly 
inaccessible  places,  with  houses  whose  warm,  soft 
tints  so  harmonize  with  the  landscape  that  it 
seems  as  if  the  architect  had  stolen  the  moonlight 
and  dipped  it  in  Italian  glory  for  their  coloring. 
The  steamer  is  continually  interrupted  in  her 
course  by  boats  bringing  passengers  from  the  shore, 
or  coming  to  take  others  who  wish  to  land,  or  for 
the  mail  which  I  saw  sometimes  consisted  of  one 
postal  card  and  nothing  more;  thus  embarking  and 
landing,  landing  and  embarking  at  will,  the  trip 
may  be  lengthened  from  hours  to  days,  nor  even 
then  seem  long  enough.  Here,  it  being  the  fashion- 
able season,  we  saw  the  elite  and  aristocracy  of 
Southern  Italy,  more  particularly  of  Milan,  passing 
from  villa  to  villa  in  interchange  of  visits,  charming 
their  fellow-passengers  with  their  gracefulness 
and  refinement.  The  Parisian  taste  in  dress  does 
not  excel  theirs,  and  their  quiet  ease  and  elegance 
of   manner    is    very    attractive.     Their    personal 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  1 89 

beauty,  however,  did  not  on  the  whole,  seem 
superior  to  that  of  the  common  classes. 

It  was  on  Lake  Luo-ano,  a  small  lake  between 
Como  and  Maggiore,  that  I  saw  the  most  charming^ 
effects  of  light,  even  more  beautiful  than  on  Lake 
Como;  it  was  over  this  lake  that  I  saw  the  full 
moon  rise  and  seem  to  hang  stationary  for  hours, 
as  if  even  the  planets  stood,  themselves  arrested 
in  their  course,  to  marvel  at  such  a  scene.  The 
little  boats  skimming  back  and  forth  over  the 
surface  of  the  lake  made  a  wonderfully  pleasing 
feature  in  the  picture  as  I  watched  them  from 
the  balcony  of  my  hotel  on  the  shore  of  the  lake; 
they  were  cushioned  with  a  brilliant  red,  and  bright 
red  flags  floated  from  their  stern,  while  the  motion 
of  their  oars  made  them  look  throuofh  this  atmos- 
phere,  which  appeared  to  hang  like  a  vail  of  magic 
softness  and  fairy  texture,  as  if  moving  by  wings 
of  light  from  which  dripped  liquid  emeralds. 

On  the  diligence-road  across  the  country  from. 
Lake  Lugano  to  Lake  Maggiore  we  saw  our  first 
Italian  way-side  chapel,  although  way-side  shrines 
— niches  with  images  of  the  Virgin — had  become  a 
not  infrequent  sight.  As  we  rode  along  in  the 
burning  Summer  heat,  at  the  side  of  the  road  a 
group  of  large  trees  made  a  thick,  inviting  shade;  a 
floor  some  two  or  three  yards  square  of  stone,  a 
rear  wall  against  which  was  erected  an  altar,  a  roof 
supported  by  pillars,  one  or  two  benches,  and  at 


190  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

the  side,  falHn^^  from  the  rocks  above  and  making 
the  cool  shade  yet  cooler,  a  mountain  stream  of 
water,  crystal-clear.  What  weary  foot-traveler 
could  pass  such  a  shrine  nor  stop  to  pray  or  praise? 
Lake  Maggiore  is,  as  its  name  implies,  the  largest 
of  this  chain  of  lakes,  but  I  did  not  find  it  the 
most  beautiful;  indeed,  for  my  own  taste,  I  always 
find  small  lakes  the  more  charming:.  The  larger 
ones  lose  their  lake  character  and  take  on  an  ocean 
aspect.  It  is  not  the  traveler  who  always  finds  the 
sublime  unmingled  with  and  far  apart  from  the 
amusing  and  ridiculous;  and  thus,  on  this  lake, 
while  my  eye  was  charmed  by  the  former,  my  ear 
caught  a  strain  of  the  latter.  The  unusual  sound 
of  English  words  arrested  my  attention,  and, 
turning,  I  saw  a  fine-looking,  gentlemanly,  and 
evidently  well-educated  Mulatto  talking  with  one 
of  the  fairest  blondes  I  ever  saw;  the  latter  was 
proclaiming  the  merits  of  homeopathy  and  the 
immunity  from  fever  which  one  might  enjoy  in 
Italy  by  the  use  of  her  "big  box"  of  remedies. 
Her  gentleman  acquaintance,  who,  perhaps  by  the 
law  of  contrasts,  evidently  admired  her  fairness  as 
much  as  I  did,  said  that  he  found  himself  quite 
yellow  and  thought  he  must  be  bilious  and  asked 
her  advice  as  to  the  use  of  her  remedies  in  his 
case.  A  friend  at  my  elbow  who  has  no  great  faith 
in  Hahnemann's  creed,  suggested  that  all  the 
white  homeopathic  powders  in  the  world,  dissolved 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  IQI 

in  the  multitudinous  waters  of  Como  and  Maggiore, 
*  would    fail    to    change  his  bilious  complexion  to 
Caucasian  clearness. 

The  Borromean  Islands  of  Lake  Maggiore, 
which  all  the  guide-books  hold  out  as  a  tempting 
bait  to  travelers,  present  nothing  which  allured  us 
to  stop;  artificially  terraced  gardens  which  we 
could  see  verv  well  from  the  steamer,  and  chateaux 
with  inferior  picture-galleries,  tend  to  make  them 
a  sort  of  catch-penny  affair  for  the  benefit  of  the 
boatmen  and  hotel-keepers,  but  unworthy  of  the 
attention  of  any  one  but  the  excursionist  of  a  day 
or  two.  In  Italy  at  this  beautiful  season,  merely 
to  live  is  a  luxury  beyond  description;  there  is  no 
prompting  to  effort,  for  one  can  wish  for  nothing 
more;  resting  in  elysium  he  breathes  in  bliss,  and 
for  the  first  time  knows  all  the  meaning  of  dolce 
far  nierite. 

Lake   Maggiore,  Attgitst,  1875. 


192  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


XVIII. 

SWITZERLAND-LAKE  LUCERNE— LAKE  GENEVA. 

5  lonp-  as  the  world  has  a  Switzerland 
so  long  will  men  be  travelers ;  and 
whatever  other  routes  may  be  opened 
and  become  "  the  fashion,"  Switzerland  will  never 
be  neglected,  even  though  its  inhabitants  do  their 
best,  or  worst,  to  bring  about  such  a  result.  Once 
having  seen  Switzerland,  you  wonder  not  that  the 
Switzer  sometimes  dies  of  homesickness,  but  rather 
that  he  ever  oudives  it.  It  is  not  in  the  unrivaled 
beauty  of  each  separate  feature  of  the  country,  but 
rather — considering  first  its  lakes,  which  are  indeed 
to  a  landscape  what  the  eye  is  to  the  human  coun- 
tenance— in  the  perfect  combinations  covering, 
unbroken,  so  wide  an  extent ;  for  Switzerland, 
small  as  it  is,  is  not  seen  in  a  day,  and  nowhere 
does  the  eye  rest  on  tame  or  commonplace  scenery; 
beauty  becomes  the  rule  instead  of  the  exception, 
or  rather  both  rule  and  exception,  for  it  covers 
the  whole  ground,  and  at  last  the  eye  feels  itself 
satiated  with  beauty.  There  were  so  many  lovely 
spots  here  where  I  wished  I  could  spend  a  Summer, 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  1 93. 

that  I  might  as  well  have  wished  life  to  be  all 
Summer  and  know  no  end.  I  was  several  times 
asked  in  Switzerland  my  opinion  of  the  relative 
beauties  of  our  country,  more  particularly  of 
Yosemite  and  Switzerland.  I  found  that  Cali- 
fornians  particularly  had  done  us  justice,  indeed  to 
such  an  extent  that  I  could  afford  to  tell  what  I 
truly  thought ;  and  as  I  am  only  one  in  many, 
and  as  there  must  always  be  two  sides  to  a 
story,  I  frankly  acknowledged  that  I  should  rank 
Switzerland  first. 

At  Chambery  we  saw  a  fountain,  original  in 
design,  that  had  been  erected  to  a  native  of  the 
place,  who,  having  made  a  large  fortune  abroad, 
returned  home  to  divide  it  with  his  fellow-citizens  ; 
the  central  column,  of  considerable  height,  was 
surmounted  by  a  memorial  statue,  while  from  the 
four  sides  issued  four  elephants,  half  of  their 
bodies  being  in  sight  and  each  throwing  a  stream 
of  water  from  his  trunk. 

From  Annecy  to  Geneva  we  took  our  first  ride 
in  a  genuine  Swiss  diligence,  and  at  the  time  we 
thought  it  better  than  rail  or  boat  ;  but  the  shady 
side  of  the  vehicle  and  the  roads  freed  from  dust 
by  recent  rains,  made  the  journey  unusually 
agreeable.  As  we  entered  Geneva  we  could  not 
help  smiling  at  the  sign  of  "  Christ,  Tailor,"  even 
after  our  Parisian  experience,  where,  besides  the 
"  fur  store  to  the  Infant  Jesus,"  there  are  thousands. 


194  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

of  Others  of  every  kind,  each  dedicated  to  some 
saint. 

It  is  of  no  use  to  tell  of  the  blueness  of  the  water 
of  Lake  Geneva,  for  however  blue  you  may  think 
it,  and  that  in  your  bluest  mood,  when  you  come  to 
see  it  you  will  find  it  still  bluer  than  your  thought. 
It  is  so  blue  that  it  almost  seems  to  reflect  a  tint 
of  its  coloring  upon  the  surrounding  landscape. 
An  excursion  on  Lake  Leman  was  one  of  those 
disappointments  which  the  European  traveler 
thinks  himself  unusually  lucky  to  escape,  and  the 
freedom  from  which  is,  one  of  these  days,  going  to 
make  California  the  tourist's  paradise.  There  was 
a  pouring  rain,  and  the  clouds  almost  entirely 
obscured  the  shores,  while  the  mountains  did  not 
even  wink  at  us.  By  the  time  we  reached  Chillon 
the  weather  cleared  up,  but  I  lost  my  visit  to  the 
Castle  of  Chillon  by  switching  off,  in  as  Byronic  a 
manner  as  possible,  all  alone  on  the  wrong  train. 
As  I  was  without  money  or  credit  I  could  do 
nothincr  but  s^et  out  at  the  first  station,  and 
wait  for  reinforcements.  Meanwhile  I  made  the 
acquaintance  of  an  old  lady  from  Berne.  As  I 
was  placing  some  flowers  between  the  leaves  of 
my  guide-book  she  asked  me  if  it  was  my  Bible. 
I  felt  tempted  to  tell  her  it  was  the  traveler's  Bible, 
the  light  and  guide  of  his  life.  She  had  learned 
considerable  touching  the  war  of  the  dis-Unitf^d 
States  of  America,  as  she  called  them,   and  she 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  1 95 

explained  to  me  the  great  sufferincrs  of  the  negroes 
since  deprived  of  the  protection  of  their  masters  ; 
but  when  I  told  her  how  much  more  her  son,  the 
depot  master — of  whom  she  was  very  proud — • 
could  earn  in  America,  she  began  to  think  it  would 
not,  after  all,  be  so  bad,  were  it  not  for  the  hyenas, 
tic£ers  and  lions  in  the  streets  of  its  cities,  I 
thought  she  already  knew  enough,  so  I  said  nothing 
of  our  San  Francisco  bulls  and  bears. 

By  the  time  we  reached  Interlaken,  so  often 
called  the  gem  of  Switzerland,  we  had  lost  all 
power  of  comparison  between  beauty  and  beauty  ; 
we  felt  that  we  ought  to  get  up  a  little  extra 
enthusiasm,  but  we  had  long  since  been  filled  to 
overflowing  with  all  that  springs  from  the  contem- 
plation and  enjoyment  of  natural  scenery,  and  we 
could  only  return  a  calm  assent  to  Nature's  con- 
tinued appeal  to  our  admiration.  The  Falls  of 
Giessbach,  just  beyond  Interlaken,  did  not  tempt 
us  to  tarry,  particularly  as  we  had  a  pretty  good 
view  of  them  from  the  steamer,  and  saw  by  the 
volume  of  water  that,  like  many  of  the  famous 
waterfalls  of  Europe,  it  was  made  more  of  land 
than  of  water.  Near  Killarney,  in  Ireland,  was 
one  waterfall  without  any  water  at  all;  it  was  kept 
locked  up  beyond  a  gate,  and  at  the  time  of  our 
visit  its  keepers  showed  the  rocks  over  which  it 
fell  when  there  happened  to  be  any  water,  as  they 
assured  us  there  sometimes  was. 


ig6  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

From  Brienz,  on  the  opposite  shore  of  the  lake 
from  Giessbach,  we  crossed  the  country  to  Lake 
Lucerne,  by  the  mountain  road  of  the  Bruning 
Pass.  Going  in  a  Httle  open  carriage,  we  enjoyed 
through  the  whole  distance  an  uninterrupted  view- 
in  all  directions;  and  had  we  the  picture  of  this 
single  drive  by  itself  alone  in  memory,  it  would  be 
sufficient  to  refresh  the  weariness  of  many  a  labor- 
filled  day.  As  we  neared  the  summit,  the  Jungfrau 
smiled  upon  us  in  great  benignity;  one  can  see 
she  is  getting  along  in  years,  for  her  snowy  curls 
rivaled  in  whiteness  the  purity  of  her  brow  ;  and 
she  looked  as  serene  and  bright  as  some  of  her 
mortal  sisters,  so  many  of  whom  we  all  know  and 
love,  those  a/^e  yuno;fra2icn  sharing  and  dis- 
pensing their  sunshine,  but  generously  vailing 
from  others  their  darker  and  sunless  hours. 

From  Lucerne  we  made  the  assent  of  the  Righi. 
Three-quarters  of  an  hour  by  steam-boat  carried 
us  to  the  Righi  side  of  the  lake,  whence  we  took 
railroad  up  the  mountain.  The  road  is  built  on  an 
average  ascent  of  one  foot  in  everv  four  feet,  and 
the  trip  to  the  summit  is  made  in  about  an  hour 
and  a  half.  To  each  eng^ine  there  is  attached  but 
one  car;  this  has  the  sides  almost  wholly  of  glass 
and  it  carries  about  seventy  persons.  In  ascend- 
ing, the  engine  follows  the  car  and  pushes  it  up  ; 
descendinc:,  it  holds  it  back.  Besides  the  ordinary 
wheels,   there    are  wheels  of   cast    steel   running 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  1 97 

under  the  middle  of  the  car  ;  these  wheels  are 
cogged,  catching  into  corresponding  cogs  of  an 
underlying  cast  steel  rail,  thus  holding  the  car  and 
making  its  progress  sure  and  safe.  The  engine 
stands  at  a  very  slanting  angle,  giving  the  impres- 
sion that  it  keeps  late  hours.  The  traveler's  feel- 
ing of  security  is  mingled  with  a  satisfactory  touch 
of  awe  as  he  crosses  two  or  three  deep  and  wide 
ravines  yawning  under  the  seemingly  fragile  iron 
bridges.  The  mountain  is  six  thousand  feet  high, 
and  the  view  becomes  finer  and  more  advantage- 
ous on  account  of  its  isolated  position  at  the 
extremity  of  a  mountain  spur.  From  its  summit 
is  a  view  three  hundred  miles  in  extent,  and  here 

"Where  Alpine  solitudes  ascend, 
We  sat  gs  down  a  pensive  hour  to  spend, 
And,  placed  on  high  above  the  storm's  career, 
Looked  downwards" 

on  one  side  upon  the  country  spread  out  like  a 
map  whereon  the  distant  rivers  were  drawn  in 
distinct  lines,  the  woods  and  forests  contracted 
into  black  patches,  and  thirteen  blue  lakes  looked 
up  into  our  eyes,  the  nearer  ones  reflecting  back 
the  clouds  over  our  heads,  while  the  steamers  on 
the  lakes  looked  like  miniature  boats.  On  the 
other  side  the  view  is  entirelv  different,  for  here 
you  look  across  and  upwards  to  the  pinnacled 
mountain  tops,  whose  sierrad  ridges  surprise 
you  with  their  sharply-cut  lines ;  many  of  the 
summits  are  covered  with    snow,  while  between 


198  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

them  in  their  higher  depressions,  five  or  six 
glaciers  spread  out  their  fields  of  everlasting  ice. 
Once  more  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  we 
strolled  around  the  Villaofe  of  Vitznau  which  Qrave 
us  one  of  the  prettiest  little  incidents  of  our 
travel.  Entering  the  quiet  church,  which  of  itself 
was  quite  original,  we  startled  two  little  birds 
that  had  built  their  nest  over  the  arch  in  front 
of  the  chancel ;  they  flew  hither  and  thither  in 
the  greatest  dismay,  twittering  forth  notes  that 
sounded  half-appealing,  half-remonstrating.  It 
was  almost  wicked  so  to  alarm  them,  and  we 
staid  but  to  repeat  with  the  poet : 

"  Gay,  guiltless  pair, 

What  seek  ye  from  the  fields  of  heaven  ? 
Ye  have  no  need  of  prayer, 
Ye  have  no  sins  to  be  forgiven. 

"Why  perch  ye  here 

Where  mortals  to  their  Maker  bend  ? 
Can  your  pure  spirits  fear 

The  God  ye  never  could  offend  ? '' 

I  wish  I  could  finish  my  letter  by  saying  that 
in  this  land  of  beauty  man  is  superior  to  Nature, 
but  instead,  I  have  only  to  repeat  the  universal  cry 
of  tourists  against  the  dishonesty  of  almost  every- 
body into  whose  hands  one  falls,  from  the  landlord 
to  the  bootblack  and  the  porter.  We  met  several 
parties  who  said  their  whole  tour  in  Switzerland 
had  been  spoiled  by  the  annoyance  of  continued 
imposition,    and    two   or  three    parties    who    had 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  1 99 

made  the  trip  around  the  world  said  they  had 
nowhere  found  anything  to  equal  it.  The  Ameri- 
can Consul  at  Zurich  told  us  that  he  himself  had 
been  connected  with  several  lawsuits  where  suf- 
ferers had  determined  to  sue  for  justice  from  the 
legal  authorities,  but  that  in  no  case  was  it  possible 
to  obtain  it,  for  every  Swiss  will  swear  to  anything 
his  next  neighbor  demands,  and  in  a  court  of 
law  the  word  of  the  meanest  villain  native  born, 
is  believed  in  preference  to  that  of  the  most 
respectable  foreigner.  He  told  us  of  one  man, 
who,  on  remonstrating  against  a  very  exorbitant 
bill,  was  kicked  down  the  stairs,  bruised,  and  his 
clothes  torn  ;  going  to  law  he  was  put  off  week 
after  week  till  the  adjournment  of  court,  when  he 
again  returned  to  the  charge,  only  finally  to  be 
refused  redress;  at  the  time  we  were  there  he  was 
still  in  town,  armed  with  a  club,  watching  for  a 
chance  to  take  at  his  own  hands  the  redress  he 
had  vainly  claimed  at  the  hands  of  the  law.  For 
our  own  part  we  had  the  experience,  after  hirino- 
a  carriage  for  a  certain  place  at  a  certain  price,  of 
being  told  by  the  driver  when  he  had  gone  three- 
fourths  of  the  distance  and  had  reached  a  point 
where  we  could  not  help  ourselves,  that  he  would 
go  no  farther  unless  he  were  paid  more  than  the 
price  agreed  upon.  Having  a  trunk  with  us  there 
was  no  help  but  to  promise  compliance  ;  arrived 
at  our  destination  we  sought  protection  from  the 


200  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

imposition,  but  were  told  by  the  local  authorities 
that  if  we  dared  to  bring  the  case  to  trial,  we 
should  have  it  decided  against  us  and  be  made  to 
pay  a  great  deal  more.  It  was  for  this  reason  that 
we  applied  for  information  to  the  Consul  and  were 
told  by  him  that  in  Switzerland  justice  does  not 
exist. 

Geneva,  Auf^ust,  1S75. 


The  Swiss  Government  expressed  great  indig- 
nation at  the  first  publication  of  the  above  facts; 
it  is  to  be  hoped  their  indignation  extended  to 
the  facts  themselves,  and  that  in  the  years  since 
intervening,  the  relation  between  tourist  and 
resident  has  been  established  on  a  more  honorable 
basis.  Switzerland's  scenery  is  her  business 
capital ;  she  has  built  the  finest  roads,  the  most 
elegant  hotels;  from  these  she  must  gain  in 
three  months  of  the  year  enough  to  support  her 
population  twelve  months;  hence,  tourists  ought  to 
pay  a  larger  tax  on  their  pleasure  here  than  else- 
where; this  they  willingly  do;  in  return,  they 
demand  as  average  fair-dealing  as  human  nature 
is  capable  of  with  the  unequal  conditions  of 
leisurely  business  plans  of  the  host  at  home, 
and  of  haste  and  quest  of  pleasure  of  the  guest 
abroad. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  20I 


XIX. 

THE  RHL\E— COLOGNE— BERNE— STRASBURG— HAMBURG 

'^F  you  are  comfortably  settled  at  home  and 
want  to  visit  Europe  for  nothing  more 
than  to  see  the  Rhine,  take  my  advice,  stay 
where  you  are,  shut  your  eyes  and  imagine  it  to 
yourself ;  and  if  your  imagination  does  not  allow 
you  to  build  more  castles  than  the  Rhine  ever  had, 
and  if  they  do  not  fall  into  ruins  more  complete 
than  those  of  the  Rhine  ever  did,  your  experience 
must  have  been  exceptionally  free  from  illusions, 
and  your  landed  estates  far  from  Spain.  I 
acknowledge  that  three  preceding  nights  devoted 
to  entomological  pursuits,  and  a  cloudy,  windy 
day,  do  not  best  fit  one  to  do  justice  to  any 
landscape  ;  and,  seen  direcdy  after  Switzerland, 
the  banks  of  the  Rhine  lose  by  comparison  ;  it 
should  be  seen  first.  But  if  nothing  but  its  actual 
sight  will  satisfy  you,  by  all  means  come  within 
the  next  hundred  years,  for  the  finger  of  Decay 
and  the  tooth  of  Time  are  fast  destroying  these 
antique  ornaments  which  the  river  has  for  ages 

13 


202  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

been  so  proud  to  wear  as  a  girdle,  and  in  a  century 
from  now  the  tourist  on  the  Rhine  will  hardly  be 
able  to  discover  even  the  ruin  of  ruins.  But  one 
only  of  these  castles,  so  far  as  I  know,  has  the 
hand  of  man  sought  to  reclaim  from  the  ravages 
of  Time  ;  this  is  the  Castle  of  Stolzenfels,  restored 
by  the  Prussian  Government  and  converted  into  a 
museum.  The  castles  are  less  numerous,  though 
hardly  less  picturesque,  than  I  had  thought ;  and, 
though  there  are  many  spots  whose  wildness 
impresses,  and  many  more  whose  beauty  charms, 
yet  I  must  say  I  found  the  Rhine  not  equal  to  its 
reputation. 

As  wild  a  spot  as  any  was  the  Lorelei,  where 
the  river,  between  two  abrupt  turns  that  it  makes, 
forms  a  sort  of  parallelogram,  on  one  side  of  which 
the  land  rises  high  and  very  steep,  and  on  the 
other  an  almost  perpendicular  rock  some  five 
hundred  feet  or  more  in  height.  The  echo 
naturallv  reflected  from  this  rock  has  ofiven  rise  to 
the  poetical  fiction  of  the  siren  dwelling  here  and 
singing  such  enchanting  strains  that  he  who  listens 
lingers,  and  he  who  lingers  is  lost  ;  lured  by  the 
weird  music,  he  throws  himself  into  the  bosom  of 
the  river,  as  if  it  were  into  the  embrace  of  the 
enchanting  spirit. 

But  if  the  scenery  around  it  was  somewhat 
inferior  to  what  I  had  imagined,  the  river  itself 
was  superior.      It  is  a  grand  old  river,  and  worthy 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  203 


to  be  called  Old  Father  Rhine  ;  but  here,  again, 
it  fails  to  find  in  me  a  worthy  praise-giver,  because 
I  so  little  love  the  water  that  the  less  in  body  the 
more  beautiful  is  it  to  me,  and  if  the  Atlantic 
Ocean  were  not  more  than  half  as  wide  as  it  is  I 
should  like  it  much  better  ;  and  I  believe  there  are 
many  others  whose  fancy  it  would  equally  satisfy. 
We  followed  the  Rhine  from  its  falls — the  Falls  of 
Schaffhausen — to  Cologne.  To  see  the  Falls  of 
Schaffhausen  you  are  not  to  go  to  Schaffhausen, 
because  there  are  no  falls  there,  but  to  Neuhausen, 
where  are  a  number  of  hotels,  with  beautiful 
grounds  near  to  and  overlooking  the  falls. 

One  who  knows  our  great  American  waterfalls 
will  hardly  find  grandeur  in  anything  of  the  same 
kind  in  Europe  ;  but  the  falls  of  the  Rhine, 
divided  into  three  parts  by  isolated  pillars  of  rock, 
extending  from  bank  to  bank  between  two-hundred 
and  three  hundred  feet,  and  fallinor  over  seventv 
feet,  are  not  insignificant  even  to  an  American, 
while  they  have  a  more  than  usual  softness  and 
gracefulness  of  character  which  wins  your 
admiration,  as  does  a  womanly  woman,  whose 
loveliness  and  grace  make  her  complete  nor  leave 
room  for  you  to  wish  her  greater  or  stronger, 
bolder  or  more  ambitious. 

Voyaging  down  the  Rhine  we  passed  Bonn 
about  sun-set;  the  wharf  was  decorated  with 
banners,  and  full-loaded  boats  were  steaming  away 


204  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

to  the  salute  of  cannons  on  shore.  It  was  the 
celebration  of  the  victory  of  Sedan.  It  is,  I 
believe,  as  yet  hardly  decided  on  which  of  two 
days  this  anniversary  shall  fall,  consequently  we 
found  Cologne  the  next  day  in  the  same  holiday 
attire  ;  the  streets  were  almost  invisible  from  the 
number  of  flags  extended  across  them  from  house 
to  house,  and  very  beautiful  was  the  sight  of  the 
many  different  banners,  and  very  prominent  was 
the  black  eagle  of  Prussia.  We  tried  to  find 
out  at  the  hotel  some  particulars  of  the  day's 
programme  ;  the  waiters  did  n't  know ;  they 
guessed  it  was  a  celebration,  because  the  flags 
were  all  out ;  they  certainly  did  n't  care  much 
whether  it  was  a  celebration  or  not,  and  they 
did  n't  care  at  all  what  it  was  about.  We  went 
outside  and  made  our  inquiries,  going  to  Cook's 
office  for  tourists,  where  different  languages  are 
spoken,  and  where  it  is  their  especial  business  to 
know  whatever  of  interest  to  the  stranger  the 
place  presents  ;  but  they  knew  as  little  as  the 
others.  Perhaps  there  was  going  to  be  a 
procession ;  perhaps  there  was  going  to  be  a 
meeting  and  speeches ;  perhaps  there  was 
something  in  the  newspapers  about  it ;  and  we 
thought,  perhaps  among  such  a  stupid  set  of 
people  a  celebration  would  not  amount  to  much, 
and  we  would  trouble  ourselves  no  more  about  it  ; 
but  we  also  queried  to  ourselves  whether,  in  this 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  205 

Catholic  city,  some  want  of  sympathy  with  the 
anti-CathoHc  government  might  not  have  some- 
thino-  to  do  with  this, indifference. 

Seeing  a  notice  of  an  international  horticultural 
exhibition,  we  took  a  ferry-boat  across  the  river 
to  the  Winter  Gardens,  These  are  admirably 
arranged  ;  they  are  large  houses  of  glass  and  iron, 
surrounded,  of  course,  at  the  present  season  by 
beautiful  Summer  grounds.  Within  the  glass 
houses,  besides  a  bountiful  display  of  smaller 
plants,  are  large  trees  and  galleries  with  railings 
draped  in  growing  vines  ;  from  the  roof  are 
suspended  large  crystal  chandeliers  ;  in  the 
galleries  are  places  for  bands  of  music  and 
spectators  ;  on  the  ground  floor,  extending 
nearly  around  the  inclosure,  are  long  tables  for 
refreshments,  where  we  were  served  with  as  fine 
a  dinner  as  the  best  hotel  could  afford.  Near  us 
at  the  table  sat  two  twin  sisters  with  their 
husbands,  evidently  twin  brothers  ;  the  sisters 
looked  so  much  alike  you  could  hardly  tell  one 
from  the  other,  while  the  resemblance  between  the 
brothers  was  almost  as  great.  To  make  the  sight 
more  striking,  the  sisters  had  the  most  peculiar, 
bright,  carrot-colored  hair,  as  brilliant  as  a  glowing 
furnace  ;  added  to  their  natural  abundant  locks 
they  seemed  to  wear  false  hair  also,  which  I  am 
sure  each  must  have  cut  off  and  sold  to  the  other, 
for  all  the  hair  dealers  in  the  world  could  never 


206  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

match  it.  After  they  had  left  the  table,  a  German 
sitting  opposite  said  to  his  friends,  "A  single  pair 
of  twins  is  nothing,  but  two  such  pairs  is  o^anz 
net.'' 

The  horticultural  exhibition  was  the  rarest 
assortment  and  most  perfect  collection  of  plants  I 
have  ever  seen,  and  I  never  expect  to  see  another 
equal  to  it.  There  were  contributions  from  every 
part  of  Europe  ;  every  plant,  even  the  most 
delicate,  looked  perfectly  healthy  and  vigorous, 
and  there  was  not  one  fading  leaf.  I  cannot  think 
of  the  houses  of  ferns  and  of  tropical  plants  without 
wishing  every  lady  in  the  world  could  have  seen 
them  ;  for  these  latter  plants  the  glass  houses  were 
almost  covered  with  blue  paint,  thus  producing  a 
shade  almost  like  that  of  umbrageous  tropical 
groves. 

Of  course  we  saw  the  Cathedral  of  Cologne,  for 
we  could  not  leave  our  hotel  without  almost 
stumbling  upon  it.  Why  some  Woman's  Rights 
Convention  does  not  bring  up  this  Cathedral  as  an 
instance  of  man's  incapacity  to  work  alone,  I  do  not 
know  ;  but  here  these  men  have  been  at  work  six 
hundred  years  building  one  house,  which  is  not 
yet  finished,  and  it  looks  as  if  it  would  cost  more 
to  replace  the  stones  first  i)ut  in,  and  now  decayed 
— a  work  of  repair  which  has  been  extensively 
done  and  is  still  going  on — than  to  finish  the 
building,  which  is  approaching  completion.      Its 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  20/ 

outside  looks  immense,  and  it  is  advantageously 
situated,  isolated  and  on  rising  ground,  but  its 
interior,  though  vast,  seemed  so  much  smaller  than 
its  exterior  that  I  could  hardly  believe  I  was 
within  the  colossal  structure  I  had  been  gazing  at 
from  without. 

Since  having  seen  what  a  long  job  this  has  been, 
and  that  it  is  likely  to  last  some  time  yet,  it  has 
occurred  to  me  that  the  line  learned  when  a 
child, 

"  Satan  always  has  some  work  for  idle  hands  to  do," 

referred  to  the  work  on  the  Cologne  Cathedral, 
and  the  legend  connected  with  it  warrants  the  idea. 
Its  first  architect  applied  to  Mr.  Satan  for  a  plan 
superior  to  any  other  that  should  be  produced, 
promising  his  soul  in  payment  ;  according  thereto 
the  plan  was  furnished  by  the  said  S.,  but  the 
Church  hearing  of  this  transaction  felt  itself  much 
scandalized  and  soucjht  redress  at  the  Court  of 
Saints.  St.  Ursula,  on  being  consulted,  advised 
that  the  thigh  bone  of  St.  Peter  be  brought  from 
Rome,  asserting  that  whenever  the  devil  should 
claim  his  due,  by  striking  him  therewith  he  would 
retire  abashed.  Whether  it  is  always  the  case  or 
not,  it  seems  that  for  once  this  person  was  near 
when  his  name  was  mentioned,  and,  getting  angry 
at  what  he  heard,  as  many  a  listener  since  has 
done,  he  snatched  the  plan  from  the  architect, 
declaring  to  the  latter  that  his  name  should  never 


208  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

be  known  in  connection  with  his  work,  and  that  no 
man  should  ever  be  able  to  carry  out  the  plan. 
Since  the  last  two  things  are  facts — namely,  that 
the  first  architect's  name  is  unknown  and  that  it 
has  been  the  puzzle  of  centuries  to  decide  what 
plan  of  completion  would  harmonize  with  the 
commencement  of  the  cathedral — it  is  probable 
that  the  whole  story  is  true. 

In  recognition  of  St.  Ursula's  services  Cologne 
has  built  a  church  to  her,  and  in  it  you  may  find 
her  bones  mouldering  away  in  company  with 
those  of  the  eleven  thousand  virgins  of  Cologne. 

Before  reachinor  the  Rhine  we  went  to  Berne,  the 
Capital  of  Switzerland,  and  of  course  saw  the  bears, 
from  which  animal  the  city  is  said  to  have  been 
named,  and  several  of  which  have  for  hundreds  of 
years  been  kept  at  the  public  expense  for  the  public 
amusement.  A  stranger  coming  here  is  not 
supposed  to  have  seen  Berne  unless  he  has  seen  the 
bears  of  Berne,  and  it  looks  as  if  half  the  contents 
of  every  shop  in  the  city  was  bears  ;  bears  daintily 
carved  in  wood,  bears  rudely  cut  in  wood,  bears  in 
gold,  bears  in  silver,  bears  in  gingerbread,  bears 
in  candy,  bears  for  charms,  bears  little,  bears  big, 
bears  on  the  churches,  bears  on  the  fountains, 
bears  everywhere.  Around  the  open  subterranean 
inclosure  where  the  bears  are  kept,  and  into  which 
one  looks  down  from  the  street,  are  women  who 
make  their  living  by  selling  to  visitors  morsels  of 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  209 

food  to  throw  to  the  animals.      Berne  has  also  a 
puppet  show  on  its  clock  tower.     The  tower  is  a 
square  massive  structure,  once  forming  part  of  the 
ramparts  of  the  town  but  now   in  its  center,  and 
the  rotary  toy-works  upon  it  look  about  as  much 
in  character  as  would  a  jumping-jack  in  the  hands 
of  a  respectable,  staid  old  giant.      The  performance 
occupies  some    three    minutes,    terminating  with 
the  striking  of  the  hour.      First  a  cock  flaps  his 
wings  and  crows,  then  a  procession  of  bears  issues 
from  the  tower  and  passes  before  a  central  figure, 
probably  Old  Time  himself;  then  something  else 
occurs,  and  finally,  as  the  clock  strikes,  the  figure 
on  the  throne  turns  the  hour-glass  in  his  hand  and 
gapes  at  each  stroke  of  the  bell. 

The  older  portions  of  many  of  the  old  cities  of 
Europe  are  built  with  arcades  ;  that  is,  the  second 
and  upper  stories  of  the  houses  project  over  the 
sidewalk  even  to  its  outer  edge,  being  supported 
by    columns.     Thus  the   sidewalk    is    a    covered 
promenade,  on  a  level  with  the  ground  floor  that 
is  usually  occupied  by  shops.      One  peculiarity  of 
the  ancient  city  of  Chester,  in  England,  is  that  the 
houses  have  two  stories  of  arcades,  and  thus  two 
streets  of  shops,  one  above    the  other.      In  the 
arcades  of   Berne    the    front  wall    of   the    upper 
stories  is  supported  by  arches  unusually  low,  the 
buttresses  between  which  are  very  massive  ;  this 
must  render  the  shops  and  walks  generally  gloomy 


2IO  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

and  dark,  but  in  a  bright,  hot  Summer  day,  like 
the  weather  during  our  visit,  it  is  deHghtfully  cool 
and  refreshing  to  walk  through  them. 

We  should  hardly  have  cared  to  look  at  the 
Cathedral  of  Strasburg — cathedrals  are  getting  to 
be  such  common  things — had  we  not  been  anxious 
to  see  what  injuries  it  had  sustained  during  the 
Franco- Prussian  war.  At  the  first  glance  we  said, 
"Why,  it  has  not  been  injured  at  all;"  but  a 
higher  glance  upward  discovered  empty  window- 
frames  and  shattered  pinnacles,  though  not  to  the 
extent  we  had  anticipated. 

At  "fair  Bingen  on  the  Rhine"  we  were 
interested  less  in  the  banks  of  the  Rhine  than  in 
the  Bank  of  California,  the  news  of  whose  failure 
we  learned  there.  We  would  have  taken  out  our 
purses  and  counted  our  money  had  we  known 
how,  but  all  we  could  do  with  money  there  was, 
when  a  bill  was  presented,  to  take  out  money  and 
tell  people  to  help  themselves.  Prussia  has 
adopted  a  new  decimal  monetary  system  which  is 
very  simple  and  is  to  become  the  only  currency. 
Such  was  the  coin  we  had,  but  it  had  not  yet  come 
into  use  in  this  part  of  Prussia,  and  the  people 
knew  the  value  of  our  coins  as  little  as  we  knew 
theirs.  It  seemed  quite  consistent  with  her  years 
when  one  puzzled  old  woman  said  to  us,  "  Ah  ! 
the  old  way  of  doing  things  was  much  better." 

On    the    opposite    high    banks    of   the   Rhine, 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  2  I  I 

overlooking  Bingen,  a  fine  allegorical  monument 
is  to  be  erected  in  commemoration  of  Germany's 
victories  during  the  late  war. 

From  Cologne  we  pushed  forward  to  Northern 
Prussia  as  fast  as  steam  would  carry  us.  Bremen 
peeped  in  at  our  car  window  with  a  clean,  bright, 
smiling  and  inviting  face,  but  we  shook  our  heads 
and  pointed  to  Hamburg. 

At  Hamburg  the  first  thing  that  struck  us  was 
the  air  and  manner  of  the  people,  which  we  put 
down  as  the  characteristic  manner  of  a  commercial 
sea-port.  The  people  did  not,  as  elsewhere,  stare 
at  us  as  if  they  wondered  what  strangers  were 
doing  there,  but,  if  they  regarded  us  at  all,  it  was 
rather  with  an  abstracted,  self-absorbed  air,  as 
if  accustomed  to  think  of  things  far  distant, 
while  their  brisk,  quick  gait  and  business  manner 
was  almost  American.  Hamburg  is  a  beautiful, 
handsome  city,  and  everything  in  it  impresses  as 
belonging  to  a  wealthy  city  that  has  at  her 
command  all  the  luxuries,  refinements  and  pleasures 
of  modern  civilization. 

It  was  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening  that  we 
left  Hamburg  to  take  the  cars  for  Kiel,  whence 
a  midnight  steamer  was  to  take  us  further  north- 
ward. It  is  one  of  the  delights  of  traveling  that 
you  can  always  start  at  any  hour  you  do  not  want 
to,  and  it  is  the  fashion  up  here  in  the  north  of 
Europe  to  put  to  sea  at  the  twelfth  hour  ;  another 


2  12  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

of  these  delights  is  that  one  can  eat  at  almost 
any  hour  except  when  he  is  hungry,  and  as  for 
sleeping,  he  is  a  poor  traveler  who  cannot  sleep  in 
any  position  or  catch  a  nap  between  the  cup  and 
the  lip.  Walking  from  the  hotel  to  the  railroad 
station,  Hamburg  presented  one  of  the  prettiest  of 
scenes  by  gaslight.  We  passed  by  coffee-houses 
and  beer-gardens,  with  their  occasional  music  and 
colored  lights,  and  then  came  to  a  bridge  crossing 
a  large  basin  of  water  formed  by  the  Alster,  a 
small  river  on  which,  as  well  as  on  the  Elbe, 
Hamburg  is  built.  This  sheet  of  water  is  an 
irregular  square  over  a  mile  in  circumference  ; 
handsome  stone  quays  form  its  banks  on  which  are 
built  fine  hotels  and  palatial  residences,  many  of 
which  were  brilliantly  lighted,  the  lower  stories 
particularly,  which  came  down  near  to  the  water's 
edge  and  were  so  bright  as  to  look  almost  like  a 
wall  of  fire.  The  water  was  as  smooth  as  trlass 
and,  mirroring-  the  whole  scene  and  revealinor  the 
little  steamers  and  boats  hiding  away  in  its 
shadows,  was  like  an  illuminated  lake.  Thouirh 
enjoyed  only  during  our  hurried  walk,  the  scene 
made  as  distinct  a  picture  in  our  minds  as  ever  the 
sun's  rays  photographed,  and  Hamburg  as  she 
looks  by  gaslight  we  shall  long  remember. 

Hamburg,  September,   1875. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


213 


XX. 


DENMARK- COPENHAGEN— THE     OLD    MARKET    PLACE— 
THE  HOLMENSKIRCHE. 

HERE  'S  nothing  rotten  in  Denmark ; 
it 's  sound  all  around  and  healthy  at 
heart,"  is  what  you  would  have  said 
had  you  traversed  it  with  me  by  land  and  by  water. 
In  a  little  more  than  twelve  hours  we  made  the 
journey  from  Hamburg  to  the  capital  of  Denmark. 
Leaving  the  former  place  at  nine  p.  m.,  we  arrived 
by  rail  in  Kiel  in  time  for  the  midnight  steamer, 
which  brought  us  to  Korsor,  on  the  southwestern 
coast  of  the  island  of  Zealand,  in  half-a-dozen 
hours  ;  thence  we  again  took  rail,  and  before  noon 
had  crossed  to  Copenhagen  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  island.  No  country  we  have  traveled 
through  has  made  a  stronger  impression  upon  us 
than  Denmark,  and  this,  not  from  its  physical 
character,  which  is  wholly  wanting  in  marked 
features,  but  if  I  may  so  speak,  from  its  moral 
character.  We  had  come  direct  from  the  Italian 
lakes  robed  in  supernal  loveliness,  as  if  the  painters 
of  Paradise  had  accidentally  spilled  their  colors, 


2  14  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

which,  mixing  themselves  with  kindred  Hght,  fell, 
touching  the  earth  just  here  with  a  beauty  which 
melts  into  the  human  soul  and  dissolves  it 
in  ineffable  emotion ;  from  Switzerland,  whose 
heaven-reflecting  lakes  and  snow-white  summits 
are  an  eternal  sermon  of  innocence  and  purity  ; 
from  the  grand  old  Rhine  begirt  with  romance  ; 
from  all  these  we  had  come  direct  to  Denmark 
lying  low  and  unpretending  by  the  sea  ;  and  yet, 
with  all  this  disadvantage  of  contrast,  with  one 
bound,  as  it  were,  did  she  nestle  close  to  our  hearts, 
and  we  loved  her.  What  is  her  charm  ?  It  is  the 
charm  of  ho?nes,  and  the  contrast  is  but  that  which 
the  wanderer  feels,  when,  satiated  with  the  sight 
of  grand  old  temples  and  fallen  palaces,  he  enters 
within  old  familiar  walls  shining  with  an  unpre- 
tending light  more  joyous  and  cheering  than  is 
reflected  from  the  foreign  splendors  of  all  the  world 
beside. 

Denmark  is  like  a  snug,  comfortable  home,  or 
rather,  like  thousands  of  homes  cemented  together 
in  the  closest  and  most  harmonious  bonds  of  family 
and  kin.  As  we  journeyed  mile  after  mile,  there 
appeared  to  be  no  waste-land,  everywhere  well- 
cultivated  fields,  evervwhere  "  Little  farms  well 
tilled,"  everywhere  "  Little  barns  well  filled,"  and,  I 
doubt  not,  everywhere  "  Little  wives  well  willed," 
as  they  ought  to  be.  It  was  indeed  like  Sunday 
morning  in  a  well-kept  house,  so  snug  and  so  tidy, 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  215 

like  the  orderly  cleanliness  after  the  Saturday's 
"  putting  to  rights."  It  would  seem  that  generation 
after  generation  build  upon  the  same  spot  ;  for, 
although  the  houses  were  not  old,  nor  many  of 
them  very  new,  almost  every  one  we  saw  was 
surrounded  by  a  cluster  of  grand  old  trees 
crowned  with  the  growth  of  many  years.  Again 
our  eye  was  attracted  by  the  almost  universally 
clean  and  white-curtained  windows  filled  with 
pots  of  house-plants  ;  and  I  have  learned  to  look 
upon  this  apparently  insignificant  sign  as  a 
starting-point  where  indoor  enjoyment  and  the 
cultivation  of  the  home  spirit  begin — it  is  a  national 
flag  of  social  health.  So  far  as  my  observation 
goes,  the  cultivation  of  flowers  most  prevails  where 
the  people  are  the  happiest  and  the  most  moral, 
and  a  land  of  cheerful  fireside-homes  is  almost 
sure  to  be  a  land  of  cheerful  flower-potted  windows. 
Our  forenoon  was  enlivened  by  railroad  gossip 
between  two  gentlemen,  who,  I  am  sure,  never 
imagined  that  either  of  those  two  silent  foreigners, 
who  certainly  could  n  't  understand  a  word  of 
English,  would  ever  put  them  in  print.  The 
one  was  a  most  remarkable  specimen  of  octo- 
genarianism — nearer  ninety  than  eighty,  in  fact, 
as  he  told  with  legitimate  pride.  His  skin  was 
unwrinkled,  his  hands  fair,  smooth  and  steady, 
his  thought  quick,  only  his  step  somewhat  uncer- 
tain,   willingly  borrowed  the  aid  of  a  staff.      Of 


2l6  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

course  such  robust  old  age,  iron  framed  and  tough- 
sinewed,  could  only  belong  to  an  Englishman;  he 
had  served  in  the  English  army  through  all  the 
more  active  years  of  his  life,  had  something  to  tell 
of  his  experience  in  the  Peninsula  war,  and  for 
the  last  twenty  years  had  spent  his  Summers  on 
his  farm  in  the  south  of  England,  and  his  Winters 
in  Copenhagen,  which  word  he  rolled  out  with  the 
deep,  full  voice  of  a  younger  man.  The  gentleman 
conversing  with  him  gave  first  his  own  history, 
then  the  history  of  his  business,  and,  had  the 
journey  been  long  enough,  I  think  we  should  have 
had    the  history  of  the  world.      Himself  was  of 

Italian  parentage,  by  name  Count  ■ ,  which  title 

he,  however,  modestly  kept  to  himself  till  the  old 
gentleman,  at  parting,  asked  his  name  ;  born  in 
E  ngland,  educated  in  France  on  account  of  religion, 
his  wife  and  children  living  in  Italy  on  an  estate 
most  beautifully  situated,  according  to  his  descrip- 
tion, in  a  house,  which  he  less  modestly  spoke  of 
as  one  of  those  "built  by  fools  for  wise  men  to 
live  in."  Beginning  with  a  few  interesting  remarks 
touchinof  the  Suez  Canal  and  the  Mont  Cenis 
tunnel,  he  went  on  to  speak  of  the  submarine 
tunnel  between  England  and  France,  which  he 
said  was  already  commenced — a  fact  we  were 
before  ignorant  of.  He  stated  that  it  was  expected 
to  be  finished  in  six  years  ;  that  the  depth  between 
the  bottom  of  the  sea  and  the  roof  of  the  tunnel 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  217 

was  to  equal  the  depth  of  the  water  above — I  forget 
the  figures  he  gave  ;  that  one  great  impediment 
which  might  arise  was  that  the  bed  of  the  sea,  thus 
far  of  chalk  formation,  might  become  more  sandy 
in  character.  He  said  that  the  English  were  very- 
wary  of  being  taken  in  by  any  speculation,  fearing 
such  might  prove  a  swindle  ;  that  English  subscrip- 
tions were  sought,  and  sought  in  vain,  for  the  Suez 
Canal  project,  if  only  to  lend  respectability  to  the 
enterprise  ;  but,  he  added,  when  an  Englishman  is 
caught  in  a  swindle,  or  in  the  making  of  one,  it  is 
sure  to  be  the  biggest  swindle  in  the  world.  He 
also  described  a  visit  he  paid  to  Napoleon  after  his 
reverses  ;  the  latter  called  the  attention  of  the 
Empress  to  what  they  were  saying — Voila,  ce  que 
Von  dit  de  nous  ;  he  described  the  ex-Emperor  as 
being  then  in  a  state  of  weakness  even  to  trembling, 
and  said  he  was  sure  as  he  left  him  that  he  had 
but  a  short  time  to  live. 

Copenhagen  is  the  most  respectable  city  in 
the  world.  It  is  overflowing  with  respectability. 
Streets,  houses,  people  teem  with  it,  and  the  very 
atmosphere  breathes  it.  You  see  here,  at  first 
glance,  nothing  great  and  nothing  small,  nothing 
splendid  and  nothing  squalid,  nothing  modern  and 
nothing  ancient.  I  do  not  know  that  I  have  seen  a 
really  elegant  house  here,  but  all  look  like  family 
homes  of  a  few  generations,  and  you  picture  to 
yourself  their  interiors   filled    with   comforts,  but 

14 


2l8  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

comparatively  destitute  of  ostentatious  elegance. 
The  windows  here,  as  in  Norway  and  Sweden,  are 
all  what  we  call  French  windows,  but  opening  out- 
wards like  outside  blinds,  and  as  I  look  at  them, 
row  after  row  thrown  half  back  at  ritrht  angles 
with  the  front  of  the  house,  and  offering  such  a 
splendid  target  for  stones,  I  think  to  myself  what 
respectable  little  fellows  Copenhagen  boys  must  be, 
for  not  one  window  is  broken.  As  for  the  people, 
who  thus  seem  to  have  learned  that  those  who  live 
in  glass  houses  should  not  throw  stones,  there  is  a 
wonderful  air  of  decency  and  sobriety  about  them  ; 
but,  as  I  look  at  them,  I  cannot  help  questioning  if 
this  very  absence  of  excitement,  amounting  almost 
to  lack  of  animation,  does  not  betray  a  correspond- 
ing want  of  character;  they  do  not  look  spirited  nor 
are  they  a  strong-looking  people;  indeed,  I  never 
saw  in  one  city  so  many  bloodless  faces.  Perhaps 
this  dispirited  air  is  but  the  influence  of  the  terrible 
reverses  which  befell  them  early  in  the  present 
century,  when  England,  to  her  shame,  grand  old 
nation  as  she  is,  reduced  Denmark  from  one  of  the 
first  maritime  nations  in  the  world  to  a  state  of 
maritime  beggary.  Without  even  declaring  war 
the  capital  was  bombarded.  The  day  before  the 
attack,  the  city  had  unsuspectingly  victualed  and 
provisioned  the  British  fleet  which  on  the  morrow 
opened  fire  upon  her  while  she  was  in  an  almost 
defenseless    condition,  the     Danish    army    being 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  219 

absent  in  Finland,  and  but  five  thousand  men, 
mostly  militia,  at  home  to  protect  her.  At  the  end 
of  three  days  she  was  forced  to  yield  and  England 
took  the  whole  Danish  fleet ;  Denmark  was  anni- 
hilated as  a  maritime  power,  and  is  but  now 
beginning  to  rise  from  her  misfortunes.  The  Danes 
love  their  king  very  much  although  he  came  to 
them  unwelcome  as  a  German,  against  which 
nation  there  is  a  national  prejudice;  they  rather 
pity  him  too,  because,  as  they  say,  he  is  so  poor. 
Well,  I  thought  he  was  when  I  saw  what  a  looking 
old  rat-trap  of  a  palace  he  lived  in.  I  asked  a 
man,  in  whose  shop  we  were  looking  at  the  king's 
photograph,  if  he  ever  came  there.  "Oh,  yes; 
particularly  about  Christmas  when  he  comes  in 
like  any  ordinary  customer  to  buy  presents  for  his 
children."  "  And  does  he  ever  ask  you  to  take  less 
than  your  price?"  "  No,  not  he;  but  his  servants, 
*  the  purveyors  of  his  household,  try  to  make  good 
bargains  in  their  department,  but  then  they  must — 
the  king  is  so  poor."  We  told  him  he  had  more 
than  our  king  whom  we  did  not  consider  poor  at 
all.  Judge  of  our  surprise,  at  this  distance  and  by 
a  foreigner,  to  be  reminded  in  reply,  of  the  back- 
pay-matter and  increase  in  our  President's  salary. 
I  believe  the  Danes  are  an  intelliofent  and  well- 
educated  people,  but  I  thought  their  spelling 
terribly  twisted  when  I  had  to  pronounce  Kjoeben- 
havtt  Copenhagen,  and  some  of  their  proper  names 


2  20  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

look  quite  improper  to  English  eyes.  The  old 
Market- Place  with  its  open  market  presents  a 
peculiar  picture.  It  was  comparatively  deserted 
when  I  passed  through  it  late  in  the  day,  and  the 
most  curious  feature  were  the  fish-women;  there 
was  a  long  line  of  them  seated  on  low  seats,  each 
with  a  large,  high  basket  before  her.  All  wore  the 
same  head  covering — a  plaid  gingham  kerchief, 
which,  by  means  of  a  piece  of  pasteboard  or  other 
stiff  material  loosely  sewed  in  around  the  face, 
formed  a  sort  of  sun-bonnet.  As  I  passed  along, 
the  whole  company,  a  hundred  or  more,  each  held 
out  a  fish  at  arm's  length  towards  me  ;  the  row  of 
kerchiefed  heads,  the  row  of  arms  and  the  row  of 
fishes,  all  for  one  solitary  possible  purchaser,  was 
quite  a  comical  sight.  Close  to  the  bridge  along 
which  the  fish-women  had  their  place,  were  moored 
together  several  small  schooners,  some  dozen  or 
twenty;  a  flight  of  wooden  steps  led  down  to 
these,  where  on  boards  running  the  length  of  the 
boats,  were  displayed  long  rows  of  cheap  earthen- 
ware; above,  on  the  opposite  bank,  were  vegeta- 
bles, fruits,  etc.  Were  I  to  select  any  one  scene 
as  an  original,  characteristic  picture  of  the  Danish 
capital,  I  would  take  a  corner  of  the  Gammeltorv 
with  its  bridge,  its  fish-women  and  its  floating 
crockery-mart.  Not  far  from  this  spot  is  the 
Bourse,  a  curious-looking  building,  handsome,  too; 
it    is  very  long  and    comparatively  low,    but  its 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  22  1 

Steeple  is  one  of  the  land-marks  of  Copenhao-en; 
put  it  in  any  picture  and  it  will  at  once  tell  what 
city  the  rest  of  your  scene  should  represent;  it  is 
a  twisted  spire  rising  from  the  center  of  the  long 
roof  of  the  Bourse,  and  can  be  seen  at  a  o-reat 
distance  ;  it  represents  four  dragons  resting,  head 
downwards,  on  the  roof  of  the  cupola,  and  it  is 
their  uplifted  tails  twined  together  that  gives  so 
original  a  character  to  the  spire.  In  this  vicinity  we 
found  the  Holmenskirche  or  Seaman's  Church,  but 
one  of  the  last  places,  I  imagine,  where  one  would 
find  a  congregation  of  sailors.  It  is  a  wonderful 
place  on  account  of  its  fine  wood-carving.  One 
might  think  the  pulpit  and  overhanging  sounding- 
board  enough  for  one  city  ;  but  the  carving  behind 
the  altar  so  far  surpasses  these  in  quantity,  though 
not  in  execution,  that  I  cannot  find  words  to 
describe  the  amount  of  work  and  its  wonderfully 
exquisite  and  minute  perfection  ;  this  piece  is  in 
the  form  of  a  Greek  cross  corresponding  in  form 
with  the  church,  but  the  space  between  the  arms 
of  the  cross  is  so  filled  in  that  at  first  sight  it 
seems  almost  an  ellipse;  in  size  it  reaches  from 
the  altar  to  the  ceiling  by  no  means  low,  and  is 
nearly  as  wide  as  the  chancel ;  the  center  of  the 
cross,  from  below  upwards,  represents  the  last 
supper,  the  crucifixion,  the  resurrection,  the 
Trinity  ;  the  horizontal  arms  bear  the  aposdes 
and     prophets.       Many     of    the     figures    are    of 


222  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

considerable  size,  but  the  artist,  or  artists,  have 
not  availed  themselves  of  the  larger  figures  to 
spare  labor,  for  behind  them,  as  in  every  part,  the 
finest  and  most  elegantly  finished  carving  meets 
the  scrutinizing  eye.  The  galleries  and  pews  of 
the  church  are  likewise  carved. 

Expressing  my  admiration  to  our  landlord  of 
this,  which  I  supposed  to  be  an  unequaled  master- 
piece of  carving,  I  was  told  I  should  visit  a  church 
some  two  hours  distant,  which,  though  smaller,  is 
much  more  wonderful.  He  told  me,  and  I  could 
believe  him  after  what  I  had  just  seen,  that  in  this 
other  church  there  was  hardly  a  place  so  large  as 
one's  hand  not  covered  with  the  same  fine  carving, 
an  approach  to  whose  excellence  I  have  nowhere 
seen.  He  said  it  was  in  some  parts  inlaid  with 
silver  and  was  entirely  unique  in  character.  It 
was  not  from  want  of  appreciation  that  I  did  not 
visit  it,  accepting  his  statement  that  Europe  has 
not  a  secoud  such  church. 

We  had  the  good  fortune  to  have  stopped  at 
a  second-rate  hotel  with  a  first-rate  landlord  ;  he 
has  the  most  winning  way,  not  of  taking  strangers 
in,  but  of  taking  them  out,  or  rather  of  sending 
them  out  and  insisting  upon  their  staying  till 
they  have  done  justice  to  his  city.  You  may  tell 
him  you  are  in  a  hurry  to  "  get  on "  to  some 
other  place,  but  he  tells  you  in  such  a  persuasive 
manner  that  "  Copenhagen  has  to  be  seen,  too," 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  223 

that  you  yield  ;  and  when  he  says  to  your  "  No," 
"  But  you  must,"  you  go  straightway  and  do  what 
he  tells  you  and  always  have  to  say  to  him  after- 
ward, "  You  were  quite  right,  sir  ;  I  would  n't  have 
missed  that  for  anything."  His  house  is  called 
the  Union  Hotel  and  ought  to  be  easy  to  find, 
being  just  opposite  the  office  of  "  God's 
Expedition,"  according  to  the  sign  I  read  from 
my  window. 

Copenhagen,  September,  1875. 


2  24  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


XXI. 

COPENHAGEN— THORWALDSEN— HIS  LIFE— HLS  WORKS— 

HIS   MUSEUM. 

F  ever  there  was  a  city  whose  whole 
atmosphere  was  but  the  emanation  from  the 
genius  of  one  man  alone,  if  ever  there  was 
a  man  the  folds  of  whose  garments  covered  a 
whole  city  with  glory,  that  man  is  Thorwaldsen, 
that  city  is  Copenhagen.  Commerce  and  politics 
no  more  exist  for  the  visitor  to  this  classic  city  of 
modern  art — classic  through  the  work  of  one  man  ; 
this  is  no  more  one  of  the  great  sea-ports  of  the 
world,  the  capital  of  Denmark  and  the  home  of 
her  king  ;  it  is  Thorwaldsen's  city  and  he  is  its 
immortal  ruler  and  possessor.  Copenhagen  is 
sometimes  called  the  great  sculptor's  monument, 
but  I  would  rather  call  it  his  descendant  and  heir 
animated  by  the  spirit  of  his  genius.  What  a  pity 
it  is  that  great  men's  biographies  have  to  be 
written  !  Why  not  put  an  end  to  the  business  by 
burning  every  biographer  on  the  funeral  pyre  of 
his  own  works  and  thus  leave  some  heroes,  some 
ministers  of  Art  to  worship  ?     What  a  pity  to  be 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  225 

continually  shown  that  the  difference  between  a 
greater  and  a  lesser  man  is  often  but  in  the  wearing 
of  his  cloak — the  one  with  glory  without  and 
rags  within,  the  other  shabby  without  but  lined 
with  homespun  decency.  We  strike  the  balance 
between  the  two,  and  lo  !  the  former  scarcely  turns 
the  scale  against  the  average  humanity  of  the 
latter.  But  Thorwaldsen's  very  weaknesses  were 
but  the  downward  tending  roots  of  his  genius,  and 
the  rents  in  the  inner  side  of  his  garment  were 
torn  by  his  passion  for  the  divine  outlines  of 
physical  beauty  which  the  Great  Sculptor,  perhaps 
as  compensation  to  inferior  bodies,  sometimes 
neoflects  to  animate  with  a  beautiful  soul. 
Thorwaldsen's  portraits  at  different  periods  of  his 
life,  bear  the  impress  of  a  great,  loving,  genial  and 
benevolent  nature.  He  was  born  at  sea  between 
Iceland  and  Copenhagen.  His  long  life,  filled  with 
the  faithful  use  of  the  talent  given  him,  extended 
from  the  year  1770  to  1844,  and  nearly  one-half  of 
it  was  spent  in  Italy.  His  father  was  a  carver  of 
the  figure-heads  of  ships.  The  son's  first  school  was 
the  wharf  of  Copenhagen  where  he  worked  with 
his  father.  As  one  of  the  seafaring  population 
of  Denmark,  he  was  entitled  to  education  by 
the  Government,  and  thus,  at  eleven  years  of  age 
he  entered  the  Royal  Academy  of  Art,  where  not 
till  after  six  years'  study,  did  his  gaining  of  several 
prizes    draw    that    attention    towards  him  which 


2  26  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

resulted  in  the  fostering  of  his  talent  by  men  of 
influence. 

It  is  wonderful  to  see  how  thoroughly  one  man 
can  take  possession  of  a  city  and  people  ;  here  is 
hardly  a  spot  where  the  scope  of  one's  vision  does 
not  take  in  some  mark  of  his  influence ;  the  many 
statues  ornamenting  its  streets  and  squares,  its 
multitudinous  shops  filled  with  statuettes,  busts 
and  copies  of  Thorwaldsen's  works,  to  suit  every 
purse,  continually  tell  of  him,  and  one  feels  the 
greatness  of  the  man  almost  as  much  in  the  cheap 
plaster  casts  in  the  poor  man's  home,  as  in  his 
pupils'  faithful  marble  copies  of  the  master's 
nspired  visions. 

Our  first  introduction  to  Thorwaldsen  was  in  the 
Frauenkirche.  One  gets  very  tired  in  Europe  of 
visiting  churches,  and  yet  it  is  in  vain  for  him  to 
declare  on  leaving  a  country  that  he  will  never 
visit  the  churches  in  another.  Let  him  stop  where 
he  will,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  the  first  building 
he  visits  is  another  church,  for  they  are  all  show- 
places.  But  it  is  worth  paying  the  penalty  of  a 
visit  to  all  the  others  in  Europe  to  enjoy  the 
privilege  of  seeing  the  Metropolitan  Church  or 
Frauenkirche  of  Copenhagen.  The  exterior,  with 
the  exception  of  its  front,  is  plain  and  rather 
homely.  At  either  side  of  the  portico  are  two 
statues,  one  of  Moses  writing  the  law  upon  the 
tablet  he   holds   in   his  hand,  the  other  of   David 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  227 


leaning  in  inspired  mood  on  his  harp.      The  space 
in  the  pediment  over  the  portico  is  occupied  by  a 
sculpture,    in    demi-relief,    of    John    the     Baptist 
preaching    in     the    wilderness ;    this    consists    of 
some  fifteen  figures,  of  which  he  is  the  central  one 
having  one  hand  upraised  while  the  other  grasps 
a  cross;  children,  youths,  women  and  mature  men 
sit,  recline  or  stand   in  careless  attitudes  but  with 
interested    faces.      Standing    within   the   building 
and  looking  around,  one  thinks  never  did  sacred 
building  more  beautifully  illustrate  the  foundation 
of  the    Christian    religion,  the  story  of   which   is 
told    by    the    speaking    marbles    that  gaze   upon 
him.      No    need    of    preaching    here — the    place 
itself  is  a  sermon.     The  unostentatiousness  of  the 
religion    taught    by    Christ    is    expressed    in    the 
beautiful  simplicity  of  its  architecture.      Its  grace 
and  beauty  breathe  from  the  marble  forms  around 
you   while   the  almost  total  want  of  color  fills  the 
place  with  an  atmosphere  of  purity  akin  to  heaven. 
It     is     the    perfection    of    Art.      As    a     building 
consecrated  to  Him  whose  lessons  were  purity  of 
life    and    grandeur   of   soul,  the   Frauenkirche  of 
Copenhagen  is  perhaps  the  most  perfect  church  in 
Europe.      The    interior   of   the   building  is  a  long 
parallelogram,  with  arched  roof  and  semi-circular 
chancel.      The  dome  of  the  latter  and  the  ceiling 
of  the    main    body    of   the    building    are    quietly 
beautiful  but  unostentatious  in  ornamentation  and 


2  28  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

color.  The  gallery  running  the  length  of  the  two 
sides,  does  not  project,  but  recedes  within  the 
walls  behind  a  row  of  pillars  ;  the  walls  are 
almost  white,  tinged  only  with  the  least  possible 
shade  of  gray  ;  the  lower  half  of  the  wall  on 
either  side  consists  of  seven  arches,  above  the 
arches  a  cornice  ;  above  this  are  pillars  half  the 
height  of  the  building  which  support  the  roof; 
behind  them  is  the  gallery.  In  the  middle  of 
the  gallery  is  the  royal  pew,  with  crimson  velvet 
canopy,  hangings  and  cushions.  All  the  other 
churches  here  have  also  a  royal  pew,  but  it  is 
in  the  Frauenkirche  that  the  Kinor  of  Denmark 
usually  attends  public  divine  service. 

Once  within  the  doors  one  involuntarily  stands 
still,  impressed  by  the  original  effect  of  the  whole  ; 
then  the  pleased  eye  gradually  takes  in  the  whole 
line  of  statuary— -the  twelve  apostles,  six  on  either 
side,  (only  Judas  Iscariot  has  found  a  substitute,) 
while  in  the  chancel  over  the  altar  stands  the  arisen 
Christ,  and  in  the  center  of  the  chancel  is  a 
kneeling  angel  holding  in  her  hands  a  large  shell 
also  of  marble  ;  the  latter  is  the  baptismal  font. 
The  apostles  stand  on  pedestals  some  five  or  six 
feet  high.  The  figures  are  all  somewhat  more 
than  life  size,  and  of  the  finest  marble.  Some  of 
them  are  the  work  of  Thorwaldsen's  own  hands, 
the  others  the  work  of  his  pupils,  after  his  own 
designs  and   under  his   own   direction.      Nothing 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  229 

can  surpass  the  exquisite  beauty  and  effect  of  the 
kneehng  angel  ;  the  wings  nearly  touch  the 
ground  ;  the  face  and  look  is  upwards.  Each 
statue  is  a  study  by  itself,  each  face  betrays 
the  individual  character,  and  each  figure  bears 
some  sign  of  that  apostle's  calling.  Matthew 
stands  with  one  foot  on  his  bags  of  money,  the 
knee  thus  raised  supports  the  tablet  on  which 
he  has  been  writing,  but  from  which  he  now  is 
looking  away,  and  at  his  side  a  kneeling  angel 
looks  up  into  his  face.  Doubting  Thomas  stands 
absorbed  in  reverie;  his  face,  with  downcast  eyes, 
rests  on  one  hand,  in  the  other  he  holds  a  carpenter's 
square.  Paul  is  in  the  attitude  of  preaching,  his 
face  animated  as  if  speaking,  one  hand  pointing 
upwards,  the  other  resting  on  his  sword.  John, 
with  book  and  pencil  in  hand,  looks  heavenward, 
lost  in  inspiration,  at  his  foot  an  eagle.  Peter, 
with  stern  face,  grasps  the  keys  in  his  hand. 
Equally  in  all  the  others  are  read  character  and 
calling.  In  the  two  chapels  at  either  side  of  the 
altar  are  two  bas-reliefs,  one  of  the  baptism  of 
Christ,  the  other  of  the  Last  Supper.  The  latter  is 
original  in  design  ;  instead  of  being  seated  around 
a  table  as  usually  represented,  Christ  is  standing 
holding  the  cup,  while  before  Him,  in  irregular 
order,  kneel  the  apostles,  all  looking  towards  Him, 
some  with  uplifted  hands,  some  with  hands  upon 
their    hearts.     Judas,   with    face  partially    turned 


230  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

towards  them,  is  hurrying  from  their  midst. 
Extending  all  around  the  upper  part  of  the 
chancel  is  a  bas-relief  representing  the  procession 
of  Christ's  entrance  into  Jerusalem. 

The  remains  of  Thorv/aldsen  were  first  placed 
in  this  church  while  awaiting  the  completion  of 
his  final  resting-place.  Thorwaldsen  died  as  he 
had  lived,  without  relatives  or  family.  The  State, 
whom  he  had  made  his  heir,  had  already 
commenced  a  special  building  to  receive  his  works  ; 
this,  begun  during  his  life  after  designs  approved 
by  himself,  was  not  completed  till  two  years  after 
his  death.  Its  exterior  is  most  peculiar;  it 
certainly  does  not  seem  beautiful  at  first  sight,  but 
its  originality  renders  it  easy  to  be  remembered, 
and  once  having  spent  a  few  hours  within, 
you  would  not  for  the  world  change  anything 
without. 

To  me  its  atmosphere  was  that  of  the  dwelling- 
place  of  the  Spirit  of  Harmony  and  Peace  ;  I  felt 
better  and  happier  for  being  there,  and  the 
remembrance  of  the  mood  which  there  fell  upon 
me,  has  even  yet  a  kind  of  strange  mesmeric 
charm. 

Thorwaldsen's  Museum  is  a  nearly  square 
building,  less  in  height  than  in  breadth ;  it  is 
surmounted  by  a  chariot  of  Victory  drawn  by 
four  horses.  Its  style  is  mingled  Etruscan  and 
Pompeian.      Its   exterior  is   mostly  covered  with 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  23  I 


cement,  painted  principally  in  black,  dark  red  and 
dingy  yellow — the  dark  colors  predominating. 
Around  three  sides  these  colors  present  a  sort  of 
panorama  of  Thorwaldsen's  triumphal  reception 
by  the  people  on  his  return  from  Italy  with  his 
art  treasures,  after  an  absence  of  eighteen  years. 
It  is  all  of  life-size;  boats  filled  with  people  waving 
handkerchiefs  and  shouting,  immense  cases  being 
landed  from  boats,  etc.;  it  is  a  very  good  memento 
of  the  fact,  but  far  from  beautiful.  The  edifice 
is  built  around  an  open  court ;  its  walls  towards 
the  court  are  of  the  same  colors  as  the  other  walls 
— black,  red  and  yellow — but  the  designs  are 
antique ;  yellow  palm  trees  on  a  black  ground, 
flying  chariots,  etc.  The  ground  of  the  court  is 
covered  with  cement — white  center  surrounded 
by  a  very  broad  black  border — and  here,  in  the 
center,  without  other  monument  than  the  building 
and  its  contents,  Thorwaldsen's  body  is  buried ; 
his  grave,  nearly  square  like  the  court,  is 
surrounded  by  a  stone  base  about  a  foot  high,  on 
which  is  inscribed  the  dates  of  his  birth  and  death ; 
the  top  is  a  bed  of  ivy.  The  interior  of  the 
museum  consists  of  two  stories  ;  these  are  divided 
into  long  corridors  looking  upon  the  court,  while 
surrounding  the  corridors  toward  the  outer  wall 
the  space  is  cut  up  into  smaller  or  larger  rooms,  of 
which  there  are  forty-two.  All  these  rooms  and 
corridors  are  filled.      Many  of  the  smaller  rooms 


232  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

are  only  large  enough  to  contain  some  half-dozen 
pieces,  and  these  generally  harmonize  in  subject. 
Besides  Thorwaldsen's  own  works,  both  in  marble 
and  plaster,  the  building  also  contains  the  collection 
made  by  him  of  ancient  and  modern  works  of  art. 
His  library  and  paintings  are  also  here,  and  in  a 
corner  room  of  the  upper  story  is  the  furniture  of 
his  living-room  during  the  last  years  of  his  life. 
In  this  last  room  are  two  pieces  left  unfinished  at 
his  death  ;  the  one  a  bust  nearly  completed,  now 
placed  within  a  glass  case,  the  other  a  crayon 
portrait-sketch,  in  a  very  confused,  incomplete 
condition.  Here  is  also  a  very  Interesting  little 
painting  representing  him  seated  in  the  midst  of  a 
gallery  of  his  works.  There  are  several  portraits 
of  him,  and  a  very  fine  statue  of  himself  in  his 
working-frock,  mallet  in  one  hand,  his  other  arm 
leaning  on  the  head  of  a  half-completed  piece  of 
statuary — the  figure  of  a  young  girl.  Thorwaldsen 
is  as  famous  for  his  portrait-statues  and  busts,  of 
which  there  are  many  here  of  his  own  time — 
Humboldt,  Napoleon,  Walter  Scott,  Byron,  and 
others — as  for  his  ideal  pictures  ;  besides  there  are 
many  of  his  bas-reliefs,  and  they  are  all  so 
beautiful  that  I  do  not  know  why  they  have  not 
become  as  common  as  his  world-wide  known 
Night  and  Morning.  Among  the  bas-reliefs  is 
one  of  which  the  idea  is  remarkably  pretty  and 
pleasing ;   it  represents   Love   at  different  stages 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  233 

of  life;  at  the  right  hand  a  young  maiden  has 
just  uncovered  a  basket  filled  with  cherubs,  and 
from  them  has  lifted  out  the  infant  Love  ;  Psyche, 
the  mother  of  Love,  a  goddess  with  butterfly 
wings,  takes  her  child  and  passes  it  to  a  kneeling 
maiden  who  stretches  out  her  hands  to  take  it  ; 
the  next  figure  is  a  maiden  hugging  the  infant 
Love  to  her  heart  and  kissing  its  lips  ;  in  the 
next  she  is  carrying  him  along  as  she  walks, 
the  arm  that  carries  him  carelessly  swings  at  her 
side,  but  she  wisely  holds  him  by  the  wings  ;  the 
next  figure  is  a  man  sitting  on  the  ground,  his 
bowed  head  rests  in  the  hand  which  his  knee 
supports,  and  his  form  is  bent  under  a  weight, 
which  is  but  Love,  who  sits  perched  on  his 
shoulder  with  roguish  face  ;  last,  with  face  turned 
to  the  others,  stands  an  old  man  bent  over  on  the 
staff  which  supports  him ;  his  other  hand  he 
reaches  out  to  Love,  who  is  flying  from  him  and 
saucily  looking  back  to  the  beseeching  face  and 
outstretched  hand  of  the  old  man,  as  he  laughs 
and  flies  away. 

Another  is  of  exceedingly  touching  beauty — it 
is  Priam  begging  of  Achilles  the  dead  body  of 
his  son.  These  two  are  the  central  figures  ;  behind 
Achilles  two  attendants,  "  stupid  with  surprise,  yet 
seem  to  question  with  their  eyes  ; "  behind  Priam 
two  followers  bring  costly  gifts.  The  young  and 
godlike  Achilles  sits,  while  the  venerable  old  Priam, 

15 


2  34  LKTTERS    OF    TKAVKL. 

whose  face  tells  his  woe,  kneels,  embracing 
Achilles'  knees,  clasping  his  hand,  and  looking 
into  his  face  with  entreaty. 

"  Tlic  luiij^  liih  cnti'}'  made, 
And  prostrate  iu)w  Ijcforc  Achilles  laid. 
Embraced  liis  knees  and  hatlied  his  liantls  in  tears. 
'  Ah,  think,  thou  favored  of  tlie  powers  divine, 
Think  of  thy  father's  age  and  pity  mine  ! 
In  me  that   fatlier's  reverend  image  trace, 
Those  silver  hairs,  that  venerable  face. 
His  trembling  limbs,  his  helj^less  jK-rson  see — 
In  all  my  etiual  but  in  misery. 
Yet  still  one  comfort  in  his  soul  may  rise. 
He  hears  his  son  still  lives  to  glad  his  eyes. 
No  comfort  to  my  griefs,  no  hopes  remain. 
The  best,  the  bravest  of  my  sons  is  slain  ! 
Him,  too,  thy  rage  has  slain  !     Beneath  thy  steel, 
Unhappy,  in  his  country's  cause,  he  fell  ; 
For  him  through  hostile  camps  I  bend  my  way, 
For  him  thus  prostrate  at  thy  feel  I  lay  ; 
Large  gifts  proportioned  to  thy  wrath  I  bear  ; 
Oh  !  hear  the  wretched  and  the  gods  revere. 
Think  of  thy  father,  and  this  face  behold  ; 
See  him  in  me,  as  helpless  and  as  old, 
Though  not  so  wretched — there  he  yields  to  me, 
The  first  of  men  in  sovereign  misery, 
Thus  forced  to  kneel,  thus  groveling  to  embrace 
The  scourge  and  ruin  of  my  realm  and  race  ; 
.Suppliant  my  children's  murderer  to  imjilore. 
And  kiss  those  hands  yet  reeking  with  their  gore  ! '  " 


CoPENiiAOEN,  September,  1S75. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  235 


XXII. 

COPENHAGEN  — FREDERICKSBERG   HAVE —  GARDENS   OF 
TIVOLI    AND    VAUXHALL  — DENMARK'S    SCULPTORS. 

E  have  lingered  in  this  quaint  old  city 
till  we  are  getting  really  to  love  it,  and 
since  it  is  neither  young  nor  handsome 
this  must  be,  I  suppose,  because  it  is  so  good,  and 
we  would  call  it  a  dear  old  place  had  we  not  too 
often  before  been  forced  to  apply  the  same  words 
to  other  cities,  but  with  quite  a  different  meaning. 
In  one  of  our  first  walks  we  accidentally  came  upon 
the  residence  of  the  King.  This  is  situated  in 
Frederik's  Plads,  an  octagonal  space  whose  four 
alternate  sides  are  formed  by  four  palaces ;  between 
these  are  four  grand  portals  as  high  as  the  palaces 
themselves,  each  forming  the  entrance-way  into  a 
broad  thoroughfare.  The  square  is  paved  with 
stone,  and  the  only  verdure  to  be  seen  is  a  scant 
growth  of  grass  springing  up  here  and  there 
between  the  pavements,  giving  the  spot  a  desolate 
air.  In  its  center  is  a  line  equestrian  statue  of 
Frederick  V.  The  palaces,  which  are  occupied 
respectively  by  the  King,  the  Oueen-dowager,  the 
Crown  Prince  and  the  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs, 
are  uniform  in  size  and  style  ;  they  are  old,  gray 


2^6  LETTERS  OF  TRAVEL. 


Stone  buildings  with  rickety  windows  and  wholly 
unpretentious  in  character ;  many  an  American 
would  refuse  to  hire  either  as  a  residence  without 
its  being  agood  deal  renovated.  Beyond  one  of  the 
portals  a  garden-like  view  drew  our  steps  thither- 
ward. We  came  into  a  grassy  field  with  trees;  it 
was  skirted  by  the  rear  of  houses — or  their  fronts, 
for  really  it  is  pretty  hard  in  Old  Europe  to  tell  a 
back  door  from  a  front  door.  But  the  wonder  of 
the  place  is  a  ruin  which  looks  a  little  as  if  newly 
built  to  order,  and,  so  far  as  beauty  goes,  it  is, 
perhaps,  the  prettiest  spot  in  Copenhagen.  This 
is  a  roofless,  circular  building,  between  whose  two 
massive,  circled  walls  of  stone  is  a  curved,  broad 
walk  with  outlined  arches  prophesying  undeveloped 
grace  ;  the  handsome  pillared  portico  is  nearly 
finished,  some  of  the  columns  already  crowned 
with  their  capitals,  others  incomplete,  broken  at 
varying  heights.  All  around  was  in  harmony  with 
the  building ;  the  field  covered  with  an  uneven 
growth  of  Qfrass  which  seemed  to  have  been  left  to 
its  own  sweet  will  to  grow  by  fits  and  starts,  the 
branches  of  the  trees  hung  negligently,  and  the 
lazy  leaves  forgot  to  frisk  about  and  play  with  the 
winds.  As  we  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  building 
within  its  perfect  circle,  the  mosaic  of  grass  and 
wild  flowers  beneath  our  feet,  the  dome  of  clear 
blue  sky  above  our  heads,  we  thought  that  man 
had   done  well  to  stay    his  hand  where  he  did, 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  237 

and  that  Nature  had  finished  the  work  with  a 
perfection  beyond  that  of  Art.  This  building  is 
Copenhagen's  marble  church,  and  the  winds  and 
the  rains  and  the  sunshine  of  a  hundred  years  have 
planted  and  nourished  the  hanging  verdure 
growing  here  and  there  out  from  between  the 
stones  of  its  high  walls,  thus  contrasting  Nature's 
handiwork  with  the  sculptor's  chiseled  scroll  and 
leaf.  The  staid  old  city  began  this  work  in  a 
freak  of  extravagance  ;  her  funds  gave  out  and  the 
work  was  suspended.  Later  it  was  found  that  the 
swampy  soil  forbade  its  completion,  and  hence  it 
has  always  thus  remained,  more  beautiful  I  believe 
in  its  incompleteness  than  ever  architect's  design 
could  have  made  it. 

The  environs  of  Copenhagen  have  some  of  the 
most  beautiful  pleasure-grounds  in  all  Europe  ; 
they  are  accessible  by  horse-railways,  and,  indeed, 
most  of  them  are  within  the  compass  of  an 
agfreeablv  lonof  walk. 

Fredericksber<j  Have  is  the  Versailles  of 
Copenhagen,  an  extensive  park  of  wonderful 
beauty.  Its  slot  (palace),  an  unhandsome  structure 
and  no  longer  a  royal  residence,  is  on  elevated 
ground,  its  portico  overlooking  Copenhagen,  the 
harbor,  and  I  might  add  all  Denmark,  for 
Denmark  is  so  level  that  a  very  low  hill 
affords  a  very  extensive  prospect.  But  the 
grounds  are  indescribable,  and  with  the  exception 


238  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

of  its  want  of  fountains,  are,  to  my  taste,  far 
beyond  those  of  Versailles,  though  reminding  one 
of  the  latter  by  some  of  the  far-stretching  views 
over  lawns  and  lakes  through  thicket-openings. 
Here  are  woods  seemingly  of  primeval  growth, 
broad  alleys  arched  over  by  grand  old  trees, 
winding  dreamy  walks,  groves  with  clean-swept 
grounds  and  inviting  seats  where  the  shade  is  so 
dense  that  twilight  reigns  at  midday  and  the 
solitary  wanderer  who  sits  himself  down  and  opens 
the  volume  he  carries,  refuses  to  strain  his  eyes 
by  the  dim  light,  closes  the  book,  and  launches 
his  thoughts  on  the  wave  of  his  own  meditation, 
and  in  this  leafy  obscurity  forgets  the  near  and  the 
actual  and  delivers  himself  to  poetic  dreams  in 
which  the  real  before  him  rhymes  harmoniously 
with  his  most  fantastic  imaginings.  If  the  spot 
be  such  a  paradise  to  the  old,  what  must  it  be  to 
youth  and  love  ?  Here,  too,  are  islands  with 
picturesque  summer-houses  and  gay  flower-gardens 
all  duplicated  in  the  surrounding  waters ;  meander- 
ing streams  spanned  by  ornamental  bridges,  and 
broad,  open,  grassy  fields;  and  all  on  so  extensive 
a  scale  that  the  park  seems  endless. 

Between  Fredericksberg  Have  and  the  city  are 
the  Gardens  of  Tivoli  and  Vauxhall.  We  had  the 
good  fortune  to  see  the  former  on  a  gala  occasion, 
which  happens  not  more  than  once  or  twice  a  year, 
although  it  is  always  a  much  frequented  Summer 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  239 

evening    resort.      It    was    Sunday    evening,    and 
twenty  thousand  visitors  thronged  in  so  close,  one 
after  another,  that  the  unfortunate  one,  who  was  not 
hke  ourselves  luckily  warned  beforehand  but  put 
down  more  than  his  entrance  fee,  was  forced  on 
through  the  turn-stile  without  getting  his  change. 
How  shall    I    recount  the  amusements  of  these 
extensive  gardens?  Theaters,  concerts,  fire- works, 
restaurants,  acrobatic  performances  where  the  ropes 
were  stretched  from  tree  to  tree  high  up  among 
their  branches,  and  the  scene  lighted   by   Bengal 
lights  below  ;  lakes  with   illuminated    water-lilies 
floating  upon  their  surface — altogether  it  rivaled, 
or  more  than  rivaled,  the  gay  Champs  Elysees  of 
Paris.      The  water  illuminations  were  by   means 
of  small,   flat  oil-lamps  placed  inside  of  tumbler- 
shaped  lanterns  not  much  larger  than  a  common 
drinking-glass.      Each  lantern  was  of  one  color — 
red,  blue,  green  or  yellow — and  was  made  of  tissue- 
paper  covering    a    wire    frame ;     those    in   green 
formed  the  leaves  of  illuminated   trees,  some  of 
them  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  in  height,  which  stood 
near  the   banks  of  the  lakes   and   streams;  they 
covered  the  whole   frame-work  of  bridges  which 
looked  like  paths  of  colored  fire  ;  Chinese  pagodas 
and   Turkish  kiosks  two   stories   high,    had  their 
walls  covered  with  a  mosaic  of  liofht   which  traced 
architectural  design,  windows  and  doorways  ;  and 
all    trees,   bridges,     and    fanciful    buildings    were 


240  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

mirrored  In  the  still  waters  which  seemed  the 
marriage  scene  of  water-sprite  and  flame.  Then 
there  were  gardens  fenced  with  rows  of  light, 
flower-beds  bordered  in  the  same  wav,  and  aoain 
whole  flower-beds  of  illuminated  tulips  of  various 
colors  ;  all  were  made  by  gas  pipes  on  the  surface 
of  the  ground,  winding  and  twisting  about  to  form 
low  hedges,  or  knotted  together,  as  it  were,  into 
flower-beds,  the  thick-set  jets  each  furnished  with 
a  flower-shaped  glass  shade.  The  broader  and 
narrower  alleys  were  arched  overhead  with  similar 
colored  lights,  which  often  varied  from  regular 
lines  into  fantastic  combinations  and  figures. 

But  wonderful  as  were  the  grounds,  the  people 
were  no  less  so  ;  such  order  and  decorum  as  every- 
where reigned  was  remarkable  in  so  large  a  public 
gathering;  not  an  oath,  (at  least  in  English,)  not 
an  insolent  stare,  rude  gesture  or  unmannerly 
shove ;  it  was  well-behaved  propriety,  so  very 
proper  that  one  might  have  doubted  its  being  a 
festive  occasion,  had  not  the  uniform  expression 
of  happy  content  lighted  every  face.  It  all  recalled 
to  my  mind  anecdotes  I  had  read  of  Danish 
morality  ;  of  the  high  judicial  officer  who  com- 
plained that  his  office  was  a  sinecure,  he  had 
absolutely  nothing  to  do,  ajid  of  the  drinking-glass 
which  had  stood  unchained  for  over  ten  years  at 
the  side  of  a  drinking-fountain  in  the  open  high- 
way. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  24 I 

Copenhagen  is  very    rich  in  other  museums  as 
well  as  in  that  of  Thorwaldsen,   and  besides  the 
latter  she  has  also  had  other    great    artists,   but 
none  so  favored.    Before  him,  a  worthy  predecessor 
was  Wiedevelt,  who  in  a  moment  of  despair  threw 
himself  into  the  sea  to  escape  his  life  of  poverty. 
In  the  middle  of  one  of  the  streets  of  the  city  is 
,  a  monument — an  obelisk  and  pedestal — erected  to 
Frederic  VI.,  by  the  peasantry,  as  a  thank-offering 
for  the  freedom  then  conferred  upon  them.  Around 
the  pedestal  of  this  are  four  marble  statues,  said  to 
be  the  work  of  Wiedevelt.    One  of  these  represents 
Denmark  ;  she  stands  with  hand  upon  her   heart, 
and  sad,  tearful  face,  looking  in  the  direction  of  the 
spot  where  the  sculptor  drowned  himself  and  his 
misery.    Now,  they  say  of  this  statue  that  it  weeps 
and  mourns  him  forever,    and  that  it  is  doomed 
always  to  stand  with  face  turned  towards  the  fatal 
spot. 

Contemporaneous  with  and  surviving  Thorwald- 
sen was  Bissen,  to  whom  the  former  bequeathed 
the  completion  of  many  of  his  works,  and  Bissen 
again  had  a  rival  in  Zerichan.  As  remarkable 
museums  here  are  the  Ethnographic  Museum  and 
that  of  Northern  Antiquities;  the  former  is  one  of 
the  richest  of  its  kind  in  Europe,  and  the  collection 
occupies  thirty-five  rooms.  The  Museum  of 
Northern  Antiquities  is  said  to  be  the  finest  of  the 
kind  in  the  world  and  of  great  value  in  the  study 


242  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

of  the  history  of  civih'zation ;  it  contains  over 
40.000  objects  chronologically  arranged  ;  among 
other  curiosities  are  runic  inscriptions,  which  he 
that  runs  may  read  just  as  well  as  if  he  were 
standing  still.  This  may,  indeed,  be  called  a 
National  collection,  for  the  nation  has,  in  a  great 
measure,  been  its  collector.  Whenever  a  peasant 
has  turned  up  with  sword  or  spade  any  antique 
coin,  ornament,  or  any  relic  whatever,  he  has 
carried  it  to  the  owner  of  the  land,  to  the  pastor  or 
to  some  officer,  to  be  forwarded  to  the  Museum  of 
Antiquities  ;  he  has  received  on  the  spot  its  full 
value,  and  if  the  object  were  one  of  special  interest 
he  has  been  paid  an  extra  premium  for  his  con- 
tribution. 

Copenhagen,  September,  1875. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  243 


XXIII. 

FROM  DENMARK  TO  NORWAY— CHRLSTIANIA. 

^O IV  long  from  Copenhagen  to  Chris- 
tiania  ?  "  we  asked  landlord,  steam- 
boat-clerk and  captain,  and  captain, 
steamboat-clerk  and  landlord  all  replied  twenty- 
two  hours,  which  in  our  innocence  or  ignorance 
we  believed.  It  was  a  splendid  day  when,  with 
trembling  stomachs,  we  went  on  board  the  steamer 
that  was  to  carry  us  from  Denmark  to  Norway. 
As  from  her  beautiful  harbor  we  looked  back 
towards  the  quaint  old  city  of  Copenhagen,  lying 
there  in  the  midst  of  bright  blue  waters,  verdant 
with  her  grand  old  trees  and  fragrant  with  the 
name  and  fame  of  her  Thorwaldsen,  she  looked 
like  a  beautiful  flower  dropped  from  Olympian 
Gardens,  and  clasping  the  girdle  of  the  goddess  of 
the  sea.  Yet,  beautiful  as  is  the  picture  she  thus 
makes,  and  more  so  to  him  who  has  learned  to  know 
and  love  her  than  to  the  approaching  stranger,  she 
would  doubtless  have  gained  in  perspective  beauty 
were  there  rising  ground  on  which  to  lift  up  prom- 
inent buildings,  or  had  Nature  surrounded  her 
with  a  background  of  hills. 


244  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

To  go  to  Denmark  and  not  to  think  of  Hamlet 
would  be  like  studying  English  literature  and 
leaving  out  Shakespeare.  As  we  sail  northward 
through  the  Sound  we  soon  come  to  Elsinore,  and 
at  this  point  the  coasts  of  Denmark  and  Sweden 
so  nearly  approach  each  other  that  a  genuine  old- 
fashioned  giant  could  readily  step  across  from  one 
country  to  the  other.  On  a  point  projecting  out 
into  the  Sound  is  the  fortress  of  Kronberg,  the 
very  castle  on  whose  platform  Hamlet  interviewed 
the  ghost.  As  we  sailed  by  we  began  to  question 
whether,  after  all,  we  had  done  wisely  to  refuse  our- 
selves a  visit  to  the  spot,  to  Hamlet's  grave  and  to 
the  fountain  of  Ophelia,  which,  it  is  said,  has  so 
little  water  that  she  could  only  have  drowned  her- 
self in  it  by  the  aid  of  some  friend  to  forcibly  hold 
her  head  therein.  It  is  very  foolish  to  question  the 
authenticity  of  such  places,  for  the  sight-seeing 
traveler  who  doubts  is  lost — or  loses  his  labor,  and 
illusions  are,  for  the  most  part,  more  charming 
than  realities.  But  we  visit  real  scenes  of  real 
persons  and  think  we  are  going  out  of  curiosity  to 
see  the  places  ;  we  find  afterward  we  went  for  the 
thrill.  One  of  the  greatest  pleasures  the  traveler 
reaps  is  his  remembrance  of  such  visits.  How 
well  I  remember  my  experience  among  the  scenes 
of  Stratford-on-Avon.  I  arrived  there  in  a  pour- 
ing rain,  blase,  as  it  were,  with  travel,  weary 
of   sight-seeing,   and,    1    thought,  with   emotional 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEI,.  245 

susceptibilities  worn  out;  I  left  with  my  whole 
being  throbbing  with  emotion,  and  with  a  feeling 
of  solemnitv  akin  to  that  with  which  one  turns 
from  the  spot  where  he  has  just  left,  hidden  away 
from  him  forever,  the  mortal  cast  of  a  loving  and 
beloved  friend.  To  this  dav  the  thought  of  that 
visit — so  many  months,  so  many  miles  between — 
never  fails  to  thrill  me  with  emotion. 

Elsinore  and  its  castle  is  a  chosen  spot  for 
spirits,  for  not  only  Shakespeare  has  peopled  it, 
but  dear  old  Hans  Andersen,  too,  and  here  he  finds 
the  home  of  Holger  Danske,  the  god  who  watches 
over  Denmark,  and  who  is  seen  to  walk  here  when- 
ever danger  threatens  the  country  he  guards. 

Losing  Elsinore  from  sight  we  turned  our 
thoughts  from  Denmark  and  toward  more  northern 
lands.  We  next  came  into  the  Cattegat.  I  repeated 
to  myself  the  old  familiar  school-day  words, 
"CattegatandSkagger-rack,"  recalling  with  a  smile 
how  glibly,  as  a  child,  I  had  repeated  the  easily- 
remembered  names,  with  but  a  vague  idea  of 
whether  they  were  land,  water  or  rocks.  Beyond 
Elsinore  we  turned  toward  the  Swedish  coast  to 
put  in  at  Gotheborg,  where  many  of  the  passengers 
left  to  go  direct  to  Stockholm,  via  the  celebrated 
Gotha  Canal  and  Lakes  Werner  and  Wetter. 
We  were  now  twelve  hours  from  Copenhagen,  and 
as  yet  not  fairly  out  into  the  open  sea.  We  began 
to  ask  again,   "  How  long   from  Copenhagen  to 


246  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

Christiania  ? "  "Thirty  hours,"  was  now  the 
answer,  and  as  at  later  repetitions  of  the  question 
the  time  was  continually  lengthened,  we  finally 
refrained  lest  we  should  never  arrive,  and,  indeed, 
so  delightful  was  the  voyage  we  should  not  have 
been  impatient  to  do  so  had  we  not  regretted  the 
loss  of  such  fine  weather  for  land-travel.  The  sea 
was  very  smooth,  no  wind,  pleasant  sunshine  and 
moonshine,  and  the  steamer  so  steady  that,  for  the 
most  part,  we  were  quite  unconscious  of  any 
motion.  This,  to  be  sure,  was  not  much  to  be 
unconscious  of,  for  of  all  the  slow  going  sailers 
that  ever  put  to  sea.  this  one  was  certainly  never 
equaled,  unless  by  the  Gute  Frau  in  which  the 
Dutch  settlers  of  Manhattan  Island  sailed  from 
Holland.  The  Gnte  Frau,  I  believe,  was  round, 
so  that  she  could  sail  forwards  or  sideways  equally 
well ;  our  vessel  was  not  exactly  round,  but  it  was 
not  much  longer  than  it  was  broad,  and  the  engine 
was  of  about  sufficient  power  to  turn  a  family 
coffee-mill.  One  of  the  wonders  of  this  voyage 
was  the  moon,  who,  so  far  away  from  home,  was 
acting  a  most  whimsical,  fantastic  part ;  no  one 
seeing  such  vagaries  could  doubt  her  lunacy;  there 
she  was,  hanging  about  corners  in  the  heavens 
where  we  should  never  have  thought  of  looking 
for  a  respectable  moon,  and  instead  of  going  along 
around  the  earth  in  a  well-behaved  manner,  she 
stood  still  in  one  spot  as  if  waiting  for  the  earth 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  247 

to  come  to  her  if  it  wanted  to  be  shone  upon  ; 
then,  in  a  sort  of  lunatic  freak  she  would  rush 
down  below  the  horizon  as  suddenly  as  she  had 
risen  above  it  and  at  a  point  of  the  compass  where 
I  can't  believe  she  was  expected. 

On  such  a  little  steamer  we  could  not  but  make 
acquaintance  with  our  fellow  passengers;  I  became 
quite  interested  in  a  Danish  family  going  on  a  trip 
to  Sweden  to  assist  at  a  family  wedding.  The 
lady  was  very  intelligent  and  knew  Bret  Harte's 
works  perfectly  well,  much  better  than  I  did.  Of 
course,  I  felt  somewhat  proud  of  her  appreciation 
of  one  of  our  local  writers  ;  but  later  I  was 
thoroughly  astonished,  as  you  may  imagine,  to 
learn  from  a  casual  remark  she  made,  that  she 
had  taken  his  inventions  and  pictures  of  camp-life, 
mountain  and  mining  adventure,  etc.,  for  a  correct 
picture  of  life  in   San   Francisco  to-day. 

To  us  who  have  heard  in  England  intelligent 
people  speak  of  the  war  between  North  and  South 
America,  it  is  not  strange  that  those  still  further 
away  should  make  no  distinction  between  California 
and  San  Francisco.  Bret  Harte's  works  are 
abundantly  displayed  for  sale  in  Denmark,  Norway 
and  Sweden,  translated  into  two  of  these  languages, 
and  I  believe  into  all  three.  He  is,  it  would 
seem,  the  most  widely  known  and  most  extensively 
read  American  author  in  northeastern  Europe, 
Mark    Twain    being    his    only     equally    popular 


248  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

competitor.  Then,  too,  it  was  in  Stockholm  that 
I  first  saw  a  photograph  of  Toby  Rosenthal's 
"Elaine."  Indeed,  I  began  to  think  that  California 
geniuses,  like  California  squashes,  were  spreading 
over  a  good  deal  of  ground  and  covering  them- 
selves with  gold.  People  abroad  believe  in  the 
geniuses,  too,  more  than  they  do  in  the  squashes. 

Our  second  stopping-place,  the  first  Norway  soil 
we  trod  upon,  was  at  Laurvig,  situated  on  a  little 
peninsula  just  at  the  entrance  of  Christiania  Fjord. 
We  went  ashore  for  half  an  hour^  and  strolled 
through  the  hilly,  quiet  little  town,  searching  with 
curious  eyes  for  some  striking  characteristic  of 
place  or  people.  We  found  nothing  so  novel  as 
the  fact  of  our  being  there.  Nearly  opposite 
Laurvio- — but  here  the  distance  between  the 
western  and  the  eastern  coasts  is  too  o^reat  for  the 
eye  to  travel — is  a  little  inlet  and  stream  called  the 
Idefjord,  which  makes  the  boundary  between 
Norway  and  Sweden  ;  it  is  less  noticeable  from 
this  fact,  however,  than  from  the  little  town  of 
Fredrickshold,  situated  on  its  banks,  near  whose 
fortress,  three  hundred  feet  above  the  town, 
Charles  XII.  of  Sweden  was  killed. 

We  had  had  quite  an  incorrect  idea  of  the  length 
of  Christiania  Fjord  or  bay  ;  instead  of  a  short 
distance  it  was  a  twelve  hours'  sail.  All  was  new 
and  as  charming  as  new.  Our  maps  certainly  give 
us  a  correct  idea  of  the  Norwegian  coast,  with  its 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL,  249 

irregular  fringe  of  long  peninsulas  floating  out 
into  the  ocean,  like  sea-grass  fastened  to  its  shores; 
but  to  this  general  picture  there  is  to  be  added  the 
gentle  slope  of  these  long  tongues  of  land  lapping 
up  the  ocean,  and  the  innumerable  rocks  lying 
with  their  rounded  cheeks  just  enough  above  the 
water  to  be  kissed  by  the  sunshine,  and  thickly 
dotting  the  water  out  so  far  from  the  shore  as  to 
make  of  this  wide  arm  of  the  sea  but  a  compara- 
tively narrow  channel  for  navigation.  Although 
the  general  features  are  continually  the  same — 
inlet,  peninsula,  rock,  grassy  slope,  forest  of  pine — 
there  is,  too,  endless  variety  ;  now,  the  land  on 
either  side  stretching  toward  us,  we  seem  to  sail 
between  the  grassy  banks  of  a  beautiful  inland 
river  ;  again,  we  are  on  the  bosom  of  a  broad  sea  ; 
now,  the  coast-line  is  overshadowed  by  dark  forests 
of  evergreen;  again,  it  retreats  far,  far  into  the  land 
beyond  some  rock-bound  bay,  and  still  again  it 
marks  the  level  of  distant  fields  that  present  a  wide 
and  smiling  landscape.  Looking  at  this  deeply 
indented  coast-line,  wnth  alternating  promontory 
and  inlet,  we  have  but  to  add  the  thought  of  her 
thirty  thousand  inland  lakes  and  her  almost 
unbroken  forests  of  pine,  to  get  a  good  idea  of  the 
scenery  in  the  interior  of  Norway. 

It  was  after  12  o'clock  at  night  when  we  finally 
arrived  at  Christiania,  after  a  voyage  of  torty-four 
hours  from  Copenhagen.     We  learned  that  there  is 

16 


250  LETTERS    OP^    TRAVEL. 

one  fast  steamer  which  makes  the  direct  passage 
from  the  latter  port  to  Christiania  in  twenty-two 
hours,  and  since  that  steamer  has  begun  to  run, 
every  little  old  craft  calls  it  a  twenty-two  hours' 
trip  from  port  to  port. 

It  did  not  occur  to  us  in  our  anxiety  to  be 
"  getting  on  "  that  it  would  be  better  to  stop  on 
board  till  morning.  Some  half-dozen  passengers 
who  landed  at  the  same  time  as  ourselves 
disappeared  almost  immediately  with  the  solitary 
hand-cart,  which  was  the  only  vehicle  awaiting 
the  arrival  of  the  steamer.  My  companion  and 
myself  started  for  a  near  hotel,  the  name  and 
direction  of  which  we  had  taken  from  a  fellow- 
traveler. 

The  moon  was  just  rising  over  the  city,  which, 
as  yet,  lay  covered  with  shadows.  Not  a  light 
did  we  see  in  any  window,  nor  a  person  in  the 
streets  ;  the  only  sign  of  life  was  the  sound  of 
watchmen's  voices  in  nearer  or  more  distant 
streets,  crying  out  the  hour  of  the  night.  We 
walked  on  and  on  and  round  and  round,  but  could 
find  nothing  that  looked  like  a  hotel.  Every 
moment  we  were  becoming  sleepier,  every  moment 
our  baggage  was  getting  heavier.  At  last  we 
saw  three  men  advancing  arm-in-arm  towards  us, 
and  glad  indeed  were  we  to  see  them.  Before  we 
had  observed  their  condition  we  had  asked  them 
to  show  us  to  the  hotel  we  had  been  looking  for. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  25  [• 

No  one,  or  rather  no  three,  could  be  more 
obHging ;  they  would  not  only  show  us,  they 
would  go  with  us ;  each  was  polite  according  to 
his  stage  of  inebriation  ;  the  drunkenest  being  the 
politest  of  all.  The  hotel,  after  all,  was  not  so 
far  away,  and  we  might  have  found  it,  had  lamp 
or  light  of  any  kind  made  it  visible.  We  now: 
began  to  take  leave  of  our  guides,  not  caring  to 
appear  at  a  strange  hotel  at  such  a  late — or  early 
— hour  with  such  a  drunken  crowd;  two  of  them 
were  willing  to  go,  but  the  third  was  too  drunk 
for  such  cold-heartedness  and  was  bound  to  see  us 
out  of  our  trouble,  and  it  was  only  when  the  door 
was  at  last  opened,  that,  with  a  final  shaking  of 
hands,  his  companions  were  able  to  induce  him  to 
leave  us.  The  sleepy  porter  opened  the  door 
and  we  stepped  into  the  hall  only  to  be  refused 
further  admittance  ;  he  declared  there  was  no. 
room,  no,  not  even  a  chair  in  the  dining-room 
where  we  might  sit  till  morning  ;  and  when  we 
asked  him  to  tell  us  where  we  could  find  another 
hotel  he  knew  of  none. 

Apain  we  found  ourselves  in  the  street,  with  the 
night  and  the  city  before  us !  After  strolling  about 
awhile  we  met  a  young  man  who,  in  reply  to  our 
inquiries,  went  with  us  to  within  sight  of  another 
hotel,  where  he  left  us;  we  rang  a  good  half-hour, 
no  one  opened.  At  last  two  young  men  belonging 
in  the  house  joined  us,  and  after  we  four  had,  by 


252  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

turns,  pulled  steadily  at  the  bell  for  another 
fifteen  minutes,  the  sleepy  porter  woke  up. 
Fortunately,  one  of  the  young  men  spoke  English, 
and  we  explained  our  position  to  him — that  we 
were  respectable  persons  and  had  landed  in  a 
respectable  way.  He  asked  for  a  room  for  us 
and  was  refused,  insisted,  and  was  again  refused. 
I  could  go  no  further,  and  had  made  up  my  mind 
that  a  settee  outside  the  door  was  just  the  place 
to  pass  the  rest  of  the  night,  when  to  the  persistent 
demands  of  the  young  man  the  porter  finally 
consented  to  see  if  there  was  a  room.  He  was  too 
lazy  to  look  far,  and  perhaps  that  was  the  reason 
he  so  soon  re-appeared  and  conducted  us  into  one 
of  the  best  rooms  in  the  hotel.  As  we  put 
ourselves  to  rest  in  a  clean,  comfortable  bed,  under 
beautiful  silken  bed-coverings,  and  looked  around 
upon  the  luxurious  and  richly-furnished  apartment, 
we  forgot  all  indignation  at  the  lying,  lazy  porter, 
in  our  own  ease  and  satisfaction  at  having  at  last 
found  such  shelter,  and  our  morning's  moralizing 
was  something  like  this:  "What  a  lucky  thing  it 
is  for  strangers  that  the  young  men  of  Christiania 
stay  out  late  o'  nights." 

Christiania,  Septenibci-,  1875. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  253 


XXIV. 

SCENERY  AND  INCIDENTS   OF  TRAVEL   IN    NORWAY. 

ORWAYh^s  already  become  a  popular 
^'^  Summer  resort,  particularly  for  the 
English,  of  whom  hundreds  of  families 
come  over  here  every  year  and  spend  a  couple 
of  the  Summer  months.  They  usually  go  north 
towards  Throndhjem  where  there  is  fine  sport, 
both  hunting  and  fishing.  As  yet  a  good  part  of 
the  distance  from  Christiania  to  there  must  be 
made  by  stage,  a  journey  of  about  two  days,  but 
a  railroad  is  contemplated.  This  year  so  many 
left  at  the  same  time  that  the  steamboat  accommo- 
dations from  Christiania  were  inadequate,  nearly  a 
hundred  families  more  than  could  be  accommodated 
applying-  for  passage  home  on  the  same  steamer. 
Not  only  the  peculiar  phenomena  of  the  high 
latitude,  with  its  midnight  sun,  the  exceeding 
beauty  of  the  country  not  yet  hackneyed  by 
written  descriptions,  the  novel  landscape,  and 
equally  novel  personal  experience,  but  also  the,  as 
yet,  comparative  honesty  of  the  people,  make  a 
tour  in  Norway  one  of  the  pure  pleasures  which 
European  travel  offers.  "  Of  course  we  shall 
come  to  it,"  said  a  young  Norwegian  clergyman, 


•  2-54  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

whose  acquaintance  we  maxie  during  our  steamer 
passage  from   Copenhagen  to  Christiania,  "only 
give  us  time  and  we  promise  you  to  become  as 
bad  as  the  Swiss  ;  aught  else  would  be  too  much 
to  expect  when  we  have  to  deal  with  people  who 
know  neither  our  language  nor  our  coin,  and  thus 
every     transaction     offers      an    opportunity     for 
dishonesty  ;  human  nature  is   not  going  to  long 
■remain    proof   against    such    temptations."       We 
were  much    indebted  to    this  gentleman    for  the 
success  of  our  Norwegian  trip.     We  had  not  time 
to   go   to  the    rainy,     thousand-year    old   city    of 
Bergen,  situated  on  the    extreme   western  coast 
and    encircled     by     its     background     of     seven 
mountains,  nor  to  go  north  to  Throndhjem  where 
is  the  partly   ruined  cathedral   once  built  for  the 
worship  of  St.  Olaf,  the  patron  saint  of  Norway  ; 
besides,  it  is  at  midsummer  that  one  should   visit 
the  latter  place,  and  we  were  every  day  fearing 
the  setting  in  of  the  Winter  season,  although  the 
country    still   stood   in    its   full,   ripened   glory  of 
Autumn  beauty,  and  air  and   sunshine   were  soft 
and   radiant.      This  gentleman   told   us,  however, 
that  in  a  circular  trip  from   Christiania  as  far  as 
Gausta,  and  which  we  could  make   in  less  than 
a  week,  we  could  see  the  very  gems  of  Norwegian 
scenery    and    gain    a   proper   idea  of   the   whole 

country. 

We  had  always  read  that  the  English  language 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  255 

was  somewhat  generally  spoken  in  Norway,  and  we 
came  here  expecting  to  help  ourselves  with  our 
native  tongue;  by  accident,  rather  than  purposely, 
we  had  brouofht  a  little  Swedish  and  German 
traveler's  phrase  book,  but  the  Swedish  and 
Norwegian  languages  are  so  very  unlike  that  the 
book  was  of  no  use  to  us  here.  Our  new  friend 
assured  us  that,  once  out  of  Christiania,  we  should 
find  only  the  native  tongue  spoken  or  understood, 
and  he  kindly  insisted  upon  teaching  us  a  few 
phrases,  such  as,  "  How  much  does  it  cost  to  such 
a  place?"  Besides  this  he  gave  us  some  general 
hints  in  regard  to  his  countrymen.  The  Nor- 
wegian peasant,  said  he,  is  noted  for  his  thick- 
headedness ;  for  instance,  a  stranger  may  ask  to  be 
directed  to  a  certain  place  ;  the  peasant  directs 
him,  but  the  traveler,  not  understanding  well,  takes 
the  wrong  course,  which  does  not  at  all  disturb 
the  peasant,  who  looks  after  him  and  wishes  him  a 
pleasant  journey.  As  we  came  here  to  see 
Norway,  and  not  the  unimportant  city  of 
Christiania,  early  morning  found  us,  after  a  four 
hours'  sleep,  ready  to  continue  our  journey  ;  but 
as  our  breakfast-table  stood  by  the  window,  we 
meanwhile  made  the  best  possible  use  of  our  eyes. 
It  was  the  school-going  hour  and  not  in  all  Europe 
had  we  seen  school-children  that  looked  so  much 
like  our  own;  groups  of  fashionably-dressed  girls, 
with  books  swinging   in  straps  or  carried  in  their 


256  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

hands,  boys  with  knapsacks  on  their  backs,  and 
the  hurried  step  of   teachers;     it  was  a  new-old 
sight,  and,  from  the  looks  of  the  pupils,  we  felt 
assured    that    the    public   schools   here   must    be 
superior  to  those  of  England  or  France,  where,  as 
in  London,  the  most  respectable  class  send  their 
children   away  from    home   or   instruct   them   by 
private  teachers,  and  thus,  in  general,  the  school- 
children of  the  street  are  those  of  the  miserably 
poor  or  wear  the  uniform — blue  coats  and  long 
orange-colored    stockings,   fastened    at  the  knee, 
and  the  like — of  some  private  institution  ;  while  in 
Paris   the   better  schools   usually   own   a  sort  of 
omnibus  which  they  send  to  bring  their  scholars 
from   home   in   the  morning   and  to  convey  them 
back  at  night,  and  they  are  only  seen  walking  in 
the  streets  in  procession  conducted  by  one  or  more 
teachers.     As  we  drove    to  the    station    we  had 
opportunity  to  see  that  Christiania  is  a  clean   and 
well-built   modern-looking  city  ;    its   environs,   of 
which   we  had  a  good  view  from  the  railroad  car, 
are     of   unusual    beauty  ;     all    around,    the    most 
charming     and     beautiful     country-houses     with 
gardens    and   ornamental    grounds    reminded    us 
of  the  beautiful  environs  of  some   of   the    large 
Eastern  cities  of  our  own  country  ;  indeed,  if  the 
school-children  had  made  Christiania  seem  some- 
what American,  the  beautiful  homes  around  made 
it  still  more  so. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  257 

Two  hours  by  rail  brought  us  to  the  town  of 
Drammen,  a  lumber-port  of  importance  counting 
twenty  thousand  inhabitants,  and  here  we  were 
obliged  to  wait  till  afternoon.  The  most  I  can  say 
of  the  place,  however,  is,  that  here  one  can  get  the 
most  sleep  for  the  least  money  of  any  place  in 
Europe. 

It  was  after  dark  when  we  arrived  at  Kongsberg, 
celebrated  for  its  silver  mines,  and  here  our 
Norwegian  experience  fairly  began.  We  had  the 
name  of  an  hotel,  and  an  obliging  young  man 
brought  us  near  it  ;  I  was  going  to  say,  in  sight  of 
it,  but  we  could  not  see  it.  There  was  no  name, 
no  light,  nothing  but  a  black  hole  in  the  wall. 
We  went  into  this  because  we  did  not  see 
anywhere  else  to  go.  and  it  proved  to  be  an 
entrance-arch  leading  into  a  square  court ;  no  one 
was  within  sight  or  in  attendance,  and  we  went  into 
the  house  and  roamed  around  till  we  found  some 
one.  It  was  easy  to  make  our  want  of  a  room 
understood.  Our  landlord  was  a  strong,  strapping 
woman  who  looked  as  if  she  could  whip  a  dozen 
men.  She  did  n't  know  nor  could  n't  guess  at  the 
meaning  of  anv  word  which  did  not  belonof  to 
her  own  language,  but  yet  it  was  necessary  for 
us  somehow  to  converse  with  her.  We  could  say 
till  Tinoset  (to  Tinoset),  and  we  knew  the  word 
for  "  to-morrow  morninqr."  Our  landlord  eot  the 
idea  of  what  we  wished    to  say,  and  she  pounced 


258  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

upon  my  companion  and  pulled  his  watch  out  of 
his  pocket  in  regular  brigand  fashion,  but  she  only 
wished  to  show  him  the  hour  at  which  he  must 
start  in  the  morning.  She  obeyed  orders  for 
arranging  the  room,  which  I  could  only  give  her 
by  signs,  with  a  soldier-like  promptness  and 
exactitude,  and  then  would  wheel  around  with  a 
martial  air  as  if  more  prepared  for  action  than 
ready  for  peace.  At  last,  glancing  at  my 
companion's  boots,  it  occurred  to  her  that  she  had 
better  black  them,  and  he  was  like  a  feather  in 
her  hands  as  she  took  him  by  the  shoulders, 
backed  him  into  a  chair,  and  pulled  his  boots  off 
him. 

It  was  with  a  look  of  relief  as  if  we  did  n't  know 
from  what,  that  we  watched  our  opportunity  to 
lock  her  out  of  the  room.  We  felt,  as  you  may 
imagine,,  that  we  had  made  no  very  definite 
arrangements  for  the  morrow,  so,  early  the  next 
morning,  my  companion  arose  and  went  out  in 
search  of  some  other  hotel  where  English  might 
be  spoken;  we  had  been  told  that  at  the  Scandi- 
navian, where  we  were,  this  was  the  case,  and  for 
that  reason  we  had  gone  there,  but  we  afterwards 
learned  that  our  informer  was  not  to  blame,  only 
the  hotel  had  very  recently  changed  hands.  Soon 
after  my  companion  had  gone  out  the  landlady 
came  in,  of  course  without  knocking;  fortunately 
I  was  up,    but   she  marched  straight  to  the  bed, 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  259 

evidently  with  the  intention  of  putting  her  other 
lodger  on  his  feet  and  making  sure  of  his  being 
readv  at  the  hour  fixed,  but  she  turned  from  the 
bed  with  empty  hands.  With  dumb  motions  for 
eating  and  drinking,  I  ordered  breakfast,  and  she 
disappeared.  When,  an  hour  later,  the  team  my 
companion  had  engaged  drove  into  the  court,  we 
found  she  had  understood  and  arranged  everything 
for  us,  and  that  a  team  in  waiting — a  double-seated 
barouche,  two  horses  and  two  bags  of  hay — was 
standing  ready  at  our  service.  As  our  vehicle  was 
the  cheaper  of  the  two,  we  begged  the  English- 
speaking  man,  who  had  brought  our  team  and 
driver,  to  explain  and  make  the  matter  right  for 
us. 

We  had  a  cosy,  funny-looking  carriage,  like  an 
arm-chair  for  holding  two  persons  ;  on  two  wheels, 
it  swung  as  easy  as  a  rocking-chair.  The  only 
place  for  the  driver  was  an  iron  step  behind,  about 
two  inches  wide  and  four  or  hve  inches  long.  We 
looked  at  it  and  thought  he  had  a  tiresome  journey 
before  him. 

We  were  now  fairly  on  our  way  to  the  heart  of 
Norway,  to  the  midst  of  her  wild  beauties.  Our 
travel  this  day  was  one  of  those  drives  the  picture 
and  memory  of  which  remain  fresh  for  a  litetime. 
All  day  long  our  road  lay  for  the  greater  part 
through  pine  forests  whose  grounds  were  carpeted 
with    thick  beds    of  moss,    variegated    with     the 


26o  LETTERS  OF  TRAVEL. 

ripened  brown  and  yellow  of  ferns.  Sometimes 
we  came  into  the  open  country,  and  then  our  road 
usually  commanded  the  view  of  some  beautiful 
lake,  some  inland  sea,  often  brincrinof  us  within 
sight  of  waterfalls,  and,  oftener  still,  within  sound 
of  their  roarinof.  The  immense  amount  of  fine 
white  marble  astonished  us  ;  huge,  and  smaller 
boulders  and  rough-cut  road  posts  of  the  same 
material,  and  sometimes  for  a  mile  we  could  hardly 
see  any  other  stone.  Now  and  then  we  came  to 
clearincrs  where  were  a  cluster  of  woodmen's 
dweUings.  This  day,  however,  we  saw  but  few- 
people ;  it  was  Norway  fresh  from  her  Creator's 
hand,  untouched  and  unpeopled  bv  civilization. 
The  birch  is  almost  the  only  tree  which  divides 
these  wide  reaches  of  forest  with  the  pine.  As  the 
latter  is  celebrated  for  its  beauty  in  Norway,  so 
here,  the  birch,  too,  is  remarkable  for  its  size, 
becoming  a  tall,  majestic  tree,  whose  graceful 
branches  remind  us  of  the  weeping  willow,  and 
whose  foliage  relieves  the  otherwise  monotonous 
coloring  of  the  pine. 

Different  as  they  are.  there  is  yet  much  in 
Norway  that  reminds  one  of  Switzerland.  The 
vegetation  is  often  similar,  and  there  is  the  same 
abundance  of  lake  scenery,  only  here  the  vegeta- 
tion is  more  verdant  and  more  abundant,  the 
mountains  are  comparatively  wanting  in  height, 
and  the  same  scene  remains  longer  in  view.    What 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  26 1 

I  would  make  one  of  the  prominent  characteristics 
of  travel  in  Switzerland  is  the  rapid  changes  in  the 
panorama.  We  were  also  reminded  of  Switzerland 
by  the  houses  ;  indeed,  in  Norway  we  saw  more 
of  what  are  usually  called  Swiss  cottages  than  in 
the  former  country.  These  houses  are  generally 
lifted  up,  sometimes  on  wooden  piles,  sometimes 
on  heaps  of  stone,  and  consist  of  two  cube-shaped 
stories,  the  larger  one  on  top  of  the  smaller  one 
and  projecting  on  all  sides  several  feet  beyond  it. 
The  deep  eaves  of  the  pointed  roof  project  again 
far  beyond  the  story  below.  One  feels  in  looking 
at  these  houses  that  a  ton's  weight  more  on  one 
side  than  on  the  other  would  tip  them  over.  There 
are  comparatively  few  houses  in  the  interior  of 
Norway  built  in  any  other  fashion.  These  Swiss 
cottages  reminded  me  of  having  somewhere  read 
that  in  a  certain  valley  in  Switzerland  the  peasants 
have  a  tradition  that  they  are  of  Scandinavian 
origin,  that  an  ancient  ballad  preserves  this  history, 
and  that  in  Berne  a  play  for  children  contains 
certain  odd,  unintelligible  words  which  also  occur 
in  a  play  with  which  the  children  of  Copenhagen 
amuse  themselves. 

TiNosET,  Septe?7ibe7',  1875. 


262  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL 


XXV. 

AUTUMN  IN  NORWAY— RURAL  LIFE. 

TARTING  from  Kongsberg-  at  a 
reasonably  early  time  of  the  morning,  we 
rode  for  some  hours  in  our  arm-chair-like 
vehicle,  now  through  forests  of  pine,  now  by  the 
borders  of  lakes  or  within  sight  or  sound  of 
waterfalls.  Never  was  weather  more  delightful 
for  travel  ;  the  clear  air  of  the  later  season  was 
still  warm  with  the  breath  of  Summer,  and  we 
found  Autumn  in  Norway  speaking  to  us  with  all 
the  eloquence  of  the  season  in  other  lands,  but 
not  in  her  usual  tone  of  melancholy.  Although 
the  golden  hue  of  ripened  ferns  made  more 
golden  the  sunshine  sifted  through  the  trees,  it 
was  to  the  unchanging  evergreen  foliage,  perhaps, 
that  was  owing  that  absence  of  a  sentiment  of 
sadness  which  we  always  associate  with  the  Fall 
of  the  year.  To  us  these  beautiful  days  of 
Autumn  seemed  glad  as  Spring.  Our  enjoyment 
of  beautiful  cities,  of  monuments  and  the  works 
of  man,  overflows  in  words,  but  the  power  of 
Nature  can  only  measure  itself  by  silence  ;  thus, 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  263 

though  the  novelty  of  the  scenery  exhilarated  our 
spirits,  it  was  with  few  words  that  we  greeted 
this  new  land,  though  we  could  feel  our  own  pulse 
throb  stronger  and  quicker,  responsive  to  the 
wonderful  beauty  with  which  the  heart  of  Norway 
teemed. 

Towards  noon  we  arrived  at  a  sort  of  halting 
station  called  Bolkesjo,  consisting  of  one  house 
and  outbuildings,  and  bearing,  I  should  guess  from 
the  sign  over  the  door,  the  name  of  the  occupant. 
To  reach  it  we  turned  off  from  the  road,  where 
cleared  fields  slanted  down  from  the  highway  to  a 
large  lake  shut  in  on  the  opposite  shore  by  low 
mountains  gradually  rising  toward  the  horizon. 
We  guessed  afterwards  that  we  were  expected  to 
take  dinner  here;  in  fact,  they  showed  us  a  bill  of 
fare,  original  in  style,  but  very  easy  to  read  ;  it 
consisted  first  of  being  shown  a  wooden  tray  filled 
with  large  speckled  trout,  fresh  from  the  lake,  then 
of  being  taken  into  the  store-house — a  separate 
building,  in  the  style  of  a  Swiss  cottage — here 
were  the  usual  stores  for  the  year,  I  suppose,  of  a 
Norwegian  household,  with  additional  allowance, 
perhaps,  for  the  needs  of  the  traveler.  The  scant 
measure  of  a  little  dish  of  flour  bespoke  it  a 
luxury.  There  were  also  large  pans  of  milk, 
strings  of  dried  fish,  cheeses,  pots  of  butter,  and, 
most  curious  of  all,  the  bread  just  baked  for  the 
year's  consumption  ;  of  this  there  was  a  pile,  and 


264  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

apparently  made  from  unsifted  oatmeal,  from  six 
to  eight  feet  high,  baked  in  round  sheets  some 
two  feet  in  circumference,  of  the  thickness  and  of 
about  the  toughness  of  a  piece  of  pasteboard.  A 
poor  sick  man,  who  was  trying  to  entertain  me  by 
showing  me  all  around  the  farm,  and  vainly 
endeavoring  to  converse,  insisted  on  my  tasting 
the  bread  and  cheese,  which  were  indeed  very 
palatable.  Thinking,  I  suppose,  that  I  might  be 
fastidious  or  squeamish,  he  insisted  on  making 
the  already  clean-looking  knife,  with  which  he  cut 
the  cheese,  still  cleaner,  and  this  he  did  by  wiping 
it  several  times  up  and  down  the  leg  of  his 
pantaloons,  which  certainly  were  not  new. 

All  through  Norway  every  particle  of  vegetation 
is  carefully  turned  to  account.  The  fodder  for 
cattle  is  generally  dried  on  upright  frames,  and 
consists  mostly  of  potato-tops  and  the  leaves  of 
similar  vegetables  ;  it  looks  almost  pitiable  to  see 
sometimes  not  more  than  a  half-bushel  of  such 
material  being  carefully  dried,  and  as  1  traveled 
through  the  country  and  saw  so  little  land  culti- 
vated, so  little  to  cultivate,  I  continually  wondered 
how  the  people  lived.  Often  one  sees  a  wood- 
man's dwelling,  its  kitchen-garden,  if,  indeed,  it 
have  any,  not  more  than  six  feet  square.  These 
people,  I  was  told,  depend  on  Christiana  for  such 
supplies  as  are  indispensable,  for  which  they  pay 
with     their    wages    as    wood-cutters.      Here    at 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL,  265 

Bolkesjo  I  found  in  the  barn  a  pretty  good  supply 
of  hay  for  the  horses,  and  still  more  was  drying 
on  frames  outside,  while  on  the  ground  was  spread 
out  a  large  quantity  of  birch-leaves ;  such  caretully- 
collected  piles  of  these  leaves  had  already  on  the 
way  excited  our  curiosity,  and  we  now  found  that 
dried  birch-leaves  constitute  a  large  portion  of  the 
winter  food  for  cows.  1  did  not  resist  the  tempta- 
tion of  taking  the  rake  from  the  hands  of  the 
woman  at  work  and  turning  over  several  new 
leaves  for  myself. 

Seeing  that  the  proprietor  of  our  team,  whose 
function  as  driver  was  almost  a  sinecure,  had 
finished  his  dinner  and  begun  his  pipe,  we  inquired 
for  the  road  to  Tinoset,  and  requested,  intelligibly 
enough  as  we  supposed,  that  he  should  be  told  to 
follow.  We  walked  on  for  an  hour  through  a  most 
romantic  forest  road  ;  at  last,  having  often  looked 
backwards  in  vain  for  our  team,  my  companion 
wisely  concluded  to  return  ;  he  found  our  man 
contentedly  smoking,  apparently  without  the  least 
idea  of  following,  and  I  do  believe,  left  to  himself, 
he  would  have  staid  there  a  day  or  two,  and  then 
have  returned  home.  It  was  an  hour  worth  the 
hundreds  of  miles  I  had  traveled,  that  which  I 
now,  while  waiting,  spent  alone  m  this  strange 
forest  solitude.  Half  reclining  upon  the  luxuriant 
couch  which  the  soft  thick  moss  almost  everywhere 
covering   the   ground  afforded,    1   looked  around 

17 


266  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

Upon  the  graceful  brown  and  yellow  ferns  damask- 
ing the  greener  moss,  and  upwards  where  the  tall, 
stately  pines,  far  above  my  head,  spread  out  their 
green  branches,  through  which  a  rain  of  golden 
sunshine  fell,  while  old  Dame  Nature  chanted  in 
my  ears  her  old  familiar  story,  but  to  music  so 
sweet,  so  strange,  as  if  it  were  the  song  of  a  youth- 
ful maiden  wooed  from  some  other  sphere,  and 
glad  in  the  arms  of  this,  her  rugged  northern 
lover. 

We  could  hardly  travel  hour  after  hour,  day  in 
and  day  out,  without  trying  to  establish  some 
verbal  communication  with  our  guide.  As  he 
understood  no  language  I  could  speak,  I  followed 
the  unreasonable  idea  of  making  up  unheard-of 
words  as  if  he  could  better  understand  such.  How- 
ever, we  soon  became  able  by  help  of  strange, 
syllables  and  signs  to  entertain  and  to  some  degree 
communicate  with  each  other,  and  he  expressed 
his  satisfaction  at  this  by  gathering  for  me  quanti- 
ties of  blueberries  and  also  a  red  edible  berry 
growing  abundantly,  close  to  the  ground  and  much 
resembling  the  cranberry,  though  sweeter. 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  day  we  left  the  woods, 
and  the  road  became  a  succession  of  hills,  by  no 
means  in  good  traveling  condition.  The  fashion 
of  managing  a  horse  here  is  in  some  respects  the 
opposite  of  what  it  is  with  us.  The  horse  is 
taught  to  run  at  full  speed  down  every   hill    he 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  267 

comes  to  ;  the  driver  whistles  to  slacken  his  horse's 
speed,  and  to  stay  him  he  makes  a  peculiar  noise 
like  that  with  which  we  sometimes  entertain  babies, 
by  trilling  the  lips  and  cheeks.  I  quite  gained 
the  heart  of  our  good-natured  driver  when  I  had 
learned  to  make  this  noise  sufficiently  well  to 
control  the  horse,  and  after  that  he  loaded  me  with 
more  berries  than  I  could  begin  to  eat,  and  from 
coming  to  lift  me  out  at  the  top  of  every  steep 
hill,  every  descent  of  a  few  feet  brought  him  to 
my  side,  making  a  Norwegian  interrogation  point 
of  his  hand  and  arm. 

We  stopped  on  the  road  at  but  two  places,  the 
second  a  clearing  where  was  a  scattered  settlement 
of  a  dozen  woodmen's  cottages.  A  well-dressed 
girl  of  some  sixteen  years  was  carrying  a  load  of 
wood  to  one  of  her  neighbors  ;  she  sat  upon  the 
ground  and  threw  a  rope  over  each  shoulder  ;  on 
these  a  man,  apparently  the  father,  laid  a  heavy 
load  nearly  three  feet  in  diameter  ;  she  then  pulled 
the  loose  ends  of  the  ropes  forward,  thus  drawing 
the  load  upon  her  shoulders,  rose,  and  walked 
down  the  road  as  if  her  burden  was  as  lieht  as 
her  heart  probably  was.  It  is  difficult  to  imagine 
many  heart-breaking  events  amid  such  primitive 
life. 

It  was  towards  night  when  we  arrived  at 
Tinoset,  and  strangely  novel  as  the  scenery  all 
day    had    been,    this    was    indescribably   so.       It 


2  68  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

was  a  landscape  in  India  ink,  shaded  in  black  and 
white,  without  color.  The  light  of  day  fell  white, 
reflected  from  the  sky,  upon  a  portion  of  the 
long,  comparatively  narrow  lake,  the  rest  of  the 
lake  was  covered  by  a  black  shadow  thrown 
from  the  abrupt  mountain-shore,  the  foliage  of 
whose  dark  pine  forests  was  of  invisible  green  ; 
the  other  shore,  whose  margin  was  elevated 
some  feet  above  the  level  of  the  lake,  was  a 
remarkably  level  plateau,  an  eighth  of  a  mile 
or  less  in  width,  extending  back  from  the  lake 
to  a  perpendicular  mountain-wall  of  rock,  and 
reaching  from  where  we  were  to  some  distance 
where  a  bend  in  the  lake  terminated  our  view  ; 
this  dark,  weather-beaten  rock,  almost  as  regularly 
perpendicular  as  a  mason's  wall,  borrowed  a  deep 
shade  from  declining  day,  but  a  still  deeper  one 
from  the  black  mountain-forests  opposite.  This 
steep  mountain  rock  lent  a  decided  Yosemitic 
character  to  the  scene,  such  as  I  have  not  seen 
elsewhere  in  Europe. 

The  first  attendant  who  came  to  wait  upon  us  in 
the  neat,  modest  house  for  travelers  here,  did  not 
even  understand  the  words  tea  and  coffee,  a  most 
unusual  fact,  but  a  second  one  succeeded  better  ; 
judge  then  of  our  surprise  at  having  our  bill 
presented,  written  in  good  English,  the  token  left 
behind  evidently  of  some  English  traveler  who  had 
preceded  us.     We  were  also  surprised  at  the  fine 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  269 

china,  glass  and  plated-ware  with  which  the  table 
was  spread  for  us  in  this  rough,  out-of-the-way 
mountain  nook.  One  of  those  little  incidents 
which  speak  so  much  to  and  for  the  human  heart 
occurred  to  me  in  this  place,  where  we  had  hardly 
been  able  to  make  ourselves  understood  by  signs. 
The  next  day,  as  I  was  about  to  kave,  a  delicate- 
looking,  rather  more  than  middle-aged  woman, 
whom  I  had  not  before  seen,  went  into  the  scant, 
almost  miserable-looking  inclosure,  which  seemed 
vainly  aspiring  to  be  a  flower-garden,  and  gathered 
all  the  flowers  she  could  find.  These  she  made  into 
a  bouquet  and  gave  it  to  me  with  a  smile  and  a 
friendly  shake  of  the  hand  as  I  left.  To  fully 
appreciate  such  a  gift,  one  must  be  a  stranger  in  a 
strange  land  with  a  stranger  language,  and  then, 
perhaps,  like  me,  he  will  wear  it  for  days  and  at 
last  lay  aside  the  dried,  crumbling  stems  with  a 
tender  feeling,  reminding  him  that  the  human 
heart  is  a  unit  and  that  the  same  blood  runs  in  the 
veins  of  all,  warming  to  life  the  same  deep  centers 
of  sympathy. 

TiNOSET,  September,   1875. 


270  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL 


XXVI. 

LAKE  TINN— THE  OLDEST  CHURCH  IN    NORWAY— DRESS 
AND  MORALS  OF  THE  PEASANTRY. 

E  had  intended  to  make  Gausta  the 
furthest  Hmit  of  our  circular,  or  rather 
triangular,  tour  westward  from  Chris- 
tiania  ;  but  from  Tinoset  it  was  necessary  to 
continue  the  journey  by  the  Lake  of  Tinn.  The 
steamer,  which  had  commenced  making  less 
frequent  trips  than  during  the  Summer,  had  left 
the  same  day  that  we  arrived,  and  as  we  would  by 
no  means  trust  ourselves  to  a  little  row-boat  in 
which  some  drunken  boatmen  were  anxious  to 
take  us,  and  as  we  dared  not  at  this  season  delay 
the  necessary  three  days  before  the  steamer  would 
again  make  the  trip,  we  were  obliged  to  give  it  up. 
Gausta  is  one  of  Norway's  principal  mountains  ; 
although  but  six  thousand  feet  in  height  it 
commands  a  very  extensive  view,  reaching  south 
to  the  sea  and  north  an  equal  distance  to  the 
mountain  range  of  Totunfjeldne.  I  n  relinquishing 
this  part  of  our  journey   we  were  also  obliged  to 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL,  27 1 

give  up  seeino^  the  Falls  of  Rjukan,  seven  hundred 
and  eighty  feet  in  height  and  one  of  the  finest  in 
all  Europe.  Then  we  knew,  too,  of  the  wild 
mountain  scenery  beyond,  where  the  valley 
narrows  more  and  more  until  a  footpath,  or  trail  as 
we  should  call  it,  is  the  only  possible  road  for  the 
traveler ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  we  had  been 
traveling  continuously  many  weeks,  which  means, 
in  general,  exhaustion  from  want  of  proper  food, 
weariness  from  want  of  sleep,  and  eyes  tired  from 
looking,  and  if  we  were  to  go  to  Gausta  we  were 
hardly  fresh  enough  to  feel  equal  to  making  its 
long  ascent.  After  all,  the  disappointment  was  not 
so  great  as  one  might  imagine,  for  we  were  so  filled, 
so  overflowing,  with  wonder  and  delight  at  all  the 
strange  landscape  around  us,  that  it  was  as  if  we 
could  not  take  in  any  more. 

The  morning  view  of  Tinoset  and  its  lake  was  of 
the  same  extraordinary  character  as  that  of  the 
evening  before,  the  same  landscape  in  India  ink, 
only  with  more  of  light  and  less  of  shade.  A  more 
weird,  mysterious  spot  I  think  I  have  never  seen 
than  this  long  and  narrow  lake  of  Tinn — its  surface 
half  black,  half  white,  itself  shut  in  by  dark,  high 
mountain  walls  destitute  of  vegetation,  except 
where  forests  of  trees  rising  one  above  another 
spread  out  a  black  banner  of  foliage,  darkened 
with  age.  It  was  very  different  from  the  landscape 
of  rich,  dark  green,  and  golden  brown  and  yellow. 


272  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

through  which  we  had  reached  it.  By  thus 
shortening  the  hmit  of  our  journey  we  were  able 
to  retain  for  another  day  the  comfortable  little 
vehicle  in  which  we  had  been  traveling,  and  with 
which — although  we  had  already  repeatedly 
declared  it  the  cosiest  little  carriage  in  the  world—  - 
we  were  doubly  pleased  in  comparing  it  with  the 
only  vehicles  we  could  obtain  here,  which  were 
nothing  but  square  wooden  boxes,  sides  and  back 
at  ri^ht  angrles  with  the  seat,  destitute  of  cushions 
or  springs. 

Our  road  now  turned  nearly  south,  up  hill  and 
down  dale,  gradually  changing  from  steep  barren 
mountains  to  more  verdant  valleys,  and  finally 
widening  into  an  open  country,  where  occasional 
orchards,  carefully  planted  groves  of  birch  trees 
and  clean  harvested  fields,  spoke  of  comparative 
agricultural  prosperity.  Several  times  we  had  a 
view  of  the  pyramidal  peak  of  Gausta,  so  that  we 
were  at  least  able  to  say  we  had  seen  it. 

We  were  to  terminate  our  journey  by  land  and 
continue  it  by  water  on  arriving  at  Lake  Hitterdal, 
a  broad,  open  sheet  of  water,  miles  in  length. 
Within  sight  of  it  is  the  church  of  Hitterdal,  one 
of  the  oldest  in  Norwav.  Here  we  straved  into 
the  Sunday  afternoon  service.  The  church  stands 
a  few  rods  back  from  the  road,  in  a  field  separated 
from  the  road  by  an  ordinary  wall  of  stones  heaped 
one  upon  another,  and  broken  by  a  narrow,  awk- 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  273 

ward  gate;  through  this  we  passed,  walking  over 
the  pathless  grass.  The  church  is  an  old  wooden 
building,  around  the  walls  of  which  are  simple 
carvings  of  dragons,  etc.,  remarkable  only  for  their 
rudeness.  It  is  a  double  building,  a  house  within 
a  house;  the  two  sets  of  walls,  being  three  or  four 
feet  apart,  form  between  them  a  narrow  corridor, 
into  which  we  first  entered;  the  roug-h  wood-work 
at  the  sides,  and  the  old  stone  slabs  of  the  pave- 
ment, trodden  into  the  ground  under  the  steps  of 
successive  generations,  gave  an  air  of  rude 
antiquity.  Ascending  a  few  steps  we  entered  the 
inner  building,  which  has  been  renovated  with 
new  seats  and  flooring,  while  a  few  panes  of  purple 
and  orange-colored  glass  in  the  small  windows  of 
its  turrets,  looked  too  new  for  the  place. 

The  minister  was  a  gray-haired  old  patriarch 
who  might  well,  indeed,  have  been  the  preacher 
in  Longfellow's  beautiful  translation  of  "  The 
Children  of  the  Lord's  Supper ; "  reverend  in 
appearance  and  holy,  so  aged  that  one  could 
imagine  he  might  already  have  caught  glimpses 
into  that  hereafter  for  which  he  would  prepare  his 
flock.  A  younger  man  stepped  out  from  the  choir 
of  rugged,  rustic  youths  ranged  along  either  side 
of  the  chancel,  and  dismissed  the  congregation 
with  the  Lord's  Prayer,  while  the  aged  priest 
stood  before  the  altar,  his  back  turned  toward  the 
congregation. 


2  74  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

The  latter  made  a  rather  picturesque  assembly, 
the  men  together  in  the  pews  on  one  side  of  the 
single  aisle,  the  women  on  the  other.  The  women 
were  all  dressed  alike,  and  the  men  were  also  in 
uniform  dress,  looking  like  a  sisterhood  of  nuns 
and  a  company  of  soldiers  ;  whether  here  invisible 
currents  of  romance  streamed  from  one  side  to  the 
other,  whether  even  here  Mammon  claimed  his 
share  of  the  worshiper's  thought,  least  of  all  can 
the  stranger  say,  but  certainly  here  was  one  place 
of  worship  where  the  world  of  fashion  and  formal 
vanity  had  never  entered,  and  where  it  seemed  to 
the  observer  like  the  pure  worship  of  simple  hearts. 

We  passed  out  from  the  church,  looking  off  at 
one  side  to  where  green  hillocks,  overshadowed 
by  a  few  scattered  trees,  told  the  ever-recurring 
tale  of  mortality. 

Under  the  shade  of  a  tree  near  the  gate  stood 
two  travelers,  apparently  English,  prayer-book  in 
hand,  having  evidently  joined  in  spirit  in  the 
worship  whose  sound  had  floated  out  to  them  on 
the  calm  Sabbath  air.  ■ 

Outside  the  gate  the  men  of  the  congregation 
immediately  formed  a  group  around  one  of  their 
number  who  read  some  business  notice  of  sale  or 
bargain,  the  usual  manner,  time,  and  place,  of 
announcing  matters  of  public  interest. 

The  Norwegian  peasantry  are  among  the  best- 
dressed  people,  taken  as  a  whole,  I  have  ever  seen. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  2/5 

and  one  might  think  that  at  some  stated  time  of 
the  year  everybody  puts  on  a  whole  new  suit  and 
that  this  was  the  time.  Not  only  did  I  see  no  old 
or  patched  clothes,  but  the  cloth,  particularly  that 
which  the  men  wore,  was  both  strong  and  hand- 
some. They  wear  dark-colored  pantaloons  which 
reach  nearly  up  to  the  arm-pit,  also  a  cloth  jacket 
of  a  very  light  drab  color,  bordered  with  an 
applique  of  black  cloth  some  two  inches  wide,  which 
border  is  embroidered  with  bright-colored  braids  ; 
the  short  fronts  are  yet  a  little  longer  than  the 
back,  and  are  trimmed  with  two  rows  of  thickly- 
set  tiny  steel  buttons  with  long  loops  of  black 
braid.  These  jackets  are  very  short  behind, 
comingdown  only  across  the  middle  of  the  shoulder- 
blades.  The  pieces  of  the  back  are  widened  out 
so  as  to  allow  of  their  forming  two  deep  plaits, 
which  stand  out  in  a  sort  of  stiff  ruffle  between  the 
shoulders. 

The  gown  of  the  women  is  invariably  of  a  dark, 
heavy,  rather  stiff  cloth,  and  reaches  only  just 
below  the  knee.  The  whole  fulness  of  the  skirt 
is  carried  up  to  the  shoulders,  where  it  is  gathered 
into  a  band  fitting  around  the  neck  which  is  covered 
by  a  high  chemisette.  This  enormous  fullness, 
which,  of  course,  conceals  all  symmetry  of  figure,  is 
held  in  around  the  waist  by  a  belt  of  a  sort  of 
cashmere  pattern  ;  the  apron,  of  the  same  material 
as  the  dress,  is  trimmed  around  with  the  same,  as 


276  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

is  also  the  lower  edtre  of  the  skirt  of  the  dress. 
The  head  is  covered  with  a  black  shawl,  confined 
around  the  neck  so  that  one  half  is  thrown  up  over 
the  head  and  the  other  falls  over  the  shoulders.  It 
was  these  black-shawled  heads  on  one  side,  and 
the  light,  short,  stick-out  jackets  on  the  other, 
which  gave  the  congregation  in  the  church,  bending 
forward  in  their  devotions,  so  peculiar  and  uniform 
an  appearance  from  the  back  seat  where  I  had 
placed  myself  The  stockings  of  the  women  are 
cut  out  from  thick,  black  cloth  ;  they  are  clocked 
or  embroidered  at  the  ankles  and  halfway  to  their 
tops  with  a  wool  as  coarse  as  carpet-yarn.  I 
examined  several  pair  drying  near  one  of  the 
houses,  but  I  cannot  say  whether  the  ankle  inside 
corresponds  with  the  measure  of  the  stocking, 
which  was  wide  enough  to  allow  of  an  embroidery 
of  full-sized  red  roses  and  spreading  green  leaves, 
each  vine  being  from  three  to  four  inches  in  width. 
The  Norwegian  peasants  are  a  healthy,  moral, 
fine-looking  people,  apparently  innocent  of  every 
vice — but  one ;  this  one  is  drunkenness.  As  we 
were  driving,  a  noise  behind  us  caused  us  to  turn 
our  heads  just  in  time  to  get  out  of  the  way  of  a 
galloping  team  carrying  two  young  men,  both  so 
drunk  that  their  heads  had  fallen  forward  quite  on 
their  knees,  and  it  was  a  puzzle  to  us  how  they 
kept  their  places  in  the  wagon.  The  loosely-held 
reins  failed  to  guide  the   horse,  who  went,  some- 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  277 

times  at  his  own  discretion,  sometimes  at  his 
driver's  indiscretion,  who,  by  fits  and  starts,  would 
retard  or  hasten  his  pace  to  keep  near  us,  and  for 
several  miles  we  could  not  get  out  of  their  way. 
Again,  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  steamer,  we 
were  seated  on  a  bank  by  the  road-side  leading 
down  to  the  lake;  here  we  had  a  view  through  its 
wide-open  door  into  the  interior  of  a  cottage 
opposite  ;  a  lad  of  not  more  than  fourteen  or  fifteen 
years  came  staggering  down  the  road  so  drunk 
that  he  swung  from  one  side  of  the  doorway  to  the 
other  on  entering  the  house  ;  it  was  a  dreadful 
sight,  and  I  expected  to  see  the  father  and  mother 
within  struck  with  grief  or  anger,  but  they  hardly 
seemed  awareof  the  boy's  condition  as  he  staggered 
around  the  room,  apparently  senseless  and  aimless. 
A  few  rods  further  on,  between  the  house  and 
the  lake,  we  came  upon  another  young  man,  well 
dressed  as  all  the  rest,  lying  dead  drunk  across 
our  pathway.  This  recalled  to  us  our  conversa- 
tion with  a  Norwegian  clergyman,  who,  seeking 
to  give  us  an  idea  of  the  characteristics  of  his 
countrymen,  had  not  refrained  from  acknowledg- 
ing, though  with  evidently  troubled  spirit,  this 
baneful  appetite,  yet  adding,  as  he  asked  if  it  were 
as  bad  with  us,  that  perhaps  some  excuse  might  be 
found  in  their  severe  northern  climate.  This  is 
not  unlike  the  views  on  the  same  subject  that  I 
last  Winter  heard  expressed  by  a  man  in  a  London 


2/8  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

omnibus,  who  said  he  should  Hke  to  have  some  of 
those  temperance  preachers  take  his  place,  and 
stand  all  day  in  cold  water  up  to  his  waist  and  then 
pour  cold  water  inside  ;  he  would  like  to  see  what 
would  become  of  the  little  partition  between. 

Lake  Tinn,  September,  1875. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  279 


XXVII. 

FALLS  OF  TINNEFOS— A  NORWEGIAN    INN— RETURN   TO 

CHRISTIANIA. 

FEPV  miles  beyond  the  old  church  of 
HItterdal  is  a  noteworthy  cataract — 
that  of  Tinnefos — and,  as  our  driver 
told  us  we  could  find  lodorinors  near,  we  concluded 
to  make  that  our  changing-point  from  land  to 
water  travel.  Quite  a  large  river  here  falls  over  a 
high  precipice,  making  a  cataract  which  might  in 
any  country  claim  the  right  to  be  classed  among 
the  tourist's  gems.  From  the  bridge  on  which  we 
crossed  the  river  we  had  a  good  view  of  it,  but 
later  we  made  our  way  through  bushes  and  down 
sloping  banks  to  a  spot  quite  near  to  it,  where,  half 
reclining  on  a  projecting  rock,  and  yielding  our- 
selves to  the  luxurious  abandon  which  the  traveler 
so  enjoys  amid  the  free  landscapes  of  Nature's 
solitudes  in  strange  lands,  we  drank  in  for  hours 
deep  draughts  of  the  refreshing  spirit  of  Norwegian 
scenery.      From  the  river  the  road  ascends  half  a 


28o  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

mile  up  a  steep  hill  to  the  little  house  where  we 
were  to  stop  ;  still  beyond,  hill  rises  above  hill, 
and  on  the  highest  spot  of  all  stands  the  country 
school-house;  thus,  even  in  Norway,  it  is  the  same 
old  up-hill  road  to  learning. 

On  this  hill-top,  when  evening  came,  we  spent  a 
wonderful  sunset-hour  ;  the  face  of  the  glad  sky 
blushed  from  west  to  east  as  Apollo  lingered  so 
long,  lovingly  holding  open  the  gates  of  Day,  and 
when  at  last  Night  had  gently  closed  them  with 
her  sparkling  bolts,  the  north  star  had  stationed 
himself  high  up  toward  the  zenith,  and  the  touch 
of  the  clear,  soft  light  dropping  upon  the  earth 
seemed  to  vibrate  through  the  air  like  beautiful 
music. 

The  house  we  had  come  to  was  evidently  but  a 
sort  of  a  way -side  stopping-place  for  the  refresh- 
ment of  man  and  beast ;  consequently  we  were 
shown  to  no  room,  until,  tired  of  waiting  lor  such 
attention,  we  took  our  umbrellas  and  shawls  and 
started  up  stairs,  beckoning  for  some  one  to  follow 
us.  There  we  were  given  a  cozy  little  attic,  with 
white  woolen  blankets  on  the  beds,  a  very  little 
circumstance  to  write  about,  but  any  one  who  has 
ever  made  acquaintance  with  the  blood-red  bed- 
coverings  of  southern  Europe  will  appreciate  their 
significance ;  truly,  there  is  something  more  in 
Italy  than  Italian  art  and  Italian  skies. 

Opposite  the  house  and  on  the  other  side  of  the 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  28 1 

road  were  pine  woods  extending  half  a  mile  down 
to  the  lake.  Here  we  made  sitting-room  and 
lounging  place,  still  enjoying  the  fresh  air  fragrant 
with  purity.  Sitting  here  we  were,  to  our  surprise, 
accosted  in  English  by  a  man  who,  as  it  proved, 
had  served  many  years  in  the  navy  of  the  United 
States.  He  had  learned  to  speak  English  with  a 
stronof   Irish  brogfue,    and    seemed    also  to  have 

o  o 

caught  the  Irish  vivacity  of  character,  the  more 
remarkable  to  us  as  we  compared  it  with  the  quiet 
character  of  his  son,  our  host.  He  was  as  great 
an  anomaly  here  in  these  Norwegian  wilds  as  is 
Petrified  Charley,  the  Swede,  guide  in  the  petrified 
forest  of  California, 

This  man  had  risen  from»  landsman  to  quarter- 
master, which  he  thought  a  "good  billet ; "  had 
accompanied  Commodore  Perry's  expedition  which 
opened  the  ports  of  Japan  ;  had  served  in  the 
Mexican  war,  and  spoke  of  the  pension  due  him  for 
which  he  had  never  applied.  With  genuine  sailor 
restleness  he  replied  to  some  remark  about  being 
contented  to  remain  in  his  native  land,  that  he 
was  stopping  there  for  a  while,  but  he  thought  of 
taking  a  little  voyage  to  England  soon. 

As  one  of  those  co-incidences  which  are  always 
occurring  in  life,  one  of  our  party  had  also  been 
in  the  United  States  navy,  and  here  in  this  out- 
of-the-way  corner  of  the  world  the  two  mutually 
recalled  names  familiar  in  memory  to  each.     The 

18 


282  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

old  man  told  of  being  on  board  the  ship  with 
Herman  Melville,  midshipman,  afterwards  the 
successful  author  of  "  Typee,"  etc.  ;  also  with 
another  midshipman,  who  later  rising  to  the  rank 
of  Captain,  died  at  Acapulco  a  few  years  ago  as 
Captain  of  the  Saranac  ;  and  while  he  told  us  of 
the  final  fate  of  several,  he  too,  in  turn,  learned 
from  my  friend  the  good  or  evil  fate  of  others. 

Within  the  house  the  arrangements  for  cooking- 
were  a  model  of  simplicity  ;  there  was  nothing  but 
an  elevated  hearth  some  two  and  a-half  feet  high 
and  five  or  six  feet  long  ;  there  was  neither  crane 
to  hang  a  kettle  upon,  nor  oven  to  bake  in  ;  nothing 
but  three  little  iron  triangles  some  two  inches  high, 
on  which  the  iron  kettles  were  set  over  the  coals 
or  the  blazing  sticks  of  the  row  of  separate  little 
fires ;  an  iron  pot  and  a  triangle  seem  to  be  all 
that  is  needed  to  commence  housekeeping  in  Nor- 
way ;  with  such  a  aiisine  many  of  our  fresh  Irish 
servant-girls  would  be  saved  great  perplexity  and 
many  a  sufferer  be  cured  of  his  dyspepsia.  Yet 
our  simple  meals  here  were  a  feast ;  such  tea  I  had 
hardly  tasted  in  all  Europe  ;  fragrant  coffee  quite 
innocent  of  chiccory  or  other  alloy  ;  rich,  thick 
cream  which  we  heaped  on  the  boiled  potatoes 
white  and  lio^ht  as  the  fresh-fallino-  snow,  and 
sweet  golden  butter.  We  did  not  before  know 
that  food  so  innocent  of  fraud  still  existed  in  the 
world,  and  we  left    Tinnefos   refreshed  in  body, 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  283 

and    in    our    faith   in    human    nature,   coffee  and 
cream. 

At  noon  the  next  day,  giving  to  a  passing  wagon 
our  baggage,  which,  since  studying  the  science  of 
traveling,  we  find  daily  dwindling  to  smaller  and 
smaller  proportions,  we  started  on  foot  for  the  lake 
and  steamer  ;  a  boatman  rowed  us  out  into  the 
middle  of  the  lake,  where  the  steamer  stopped  to 
pick  us  up. 

Our  passage  back  to  Christiania  through  the 
lakes  Hitterdal,  Nordsjo,  down  the  river  Skien  to 
the  canal  of  Lovejd,  by  which  we  cut  across  the 
peninsula  from  the  town  of  Skien  to  Laurvig,  was 
still  as  novel  and  charming  as  if  it  were  our  first 
day's  travel  in  Norway.  The  general  view  resem- 
bled the  Scottish  lakes  and  Scottish  scenery  rather 
than  that  of  Switzerland.  The  sentiment,  if  I 
may  so  speak,  of  Lake  Hitterdal  is  not  unlike 
that  of  Loch  Lomond.  Later  in  the  day  we  came 
in  sight  of  farm-houses  at  sociable  distances,  with 
orchards  and  fields,  and  finally  to  towns  of  consid- 
erable business,  generally  in  lumber. 

At  Skien,  where  we  passed  the  night,  we  trusted 
to  the  promise  of  the  best-natured-looking  landlord 
in  the  world  to  wake  us  in  season  for  the  morning 
boat ;  but  good  nature  is  not  always  a  reliable 
foundation  to  build  upon,  as  we  found  the  next 
morning  when  obliged  to  hunt  up  a  servant  to 
unlock  the  door  for  us  as  we  made  a  runnine  exit 


284  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

from    the    hotel,    half    our    wardrobe    and    toilet 
articles  dangling  from  our  hands. 

From  Laurvig  to  Christiania  we  made,  for  the 
second  time,  the  trip  through  Christiania  Sound, 
but  as  it  has  two  channels  separated  by  long,  low 
islands,  and  as  our  first  voyage  was  up  the  easterly 
passage,  and  this  through  the  westerly  one,  we 
did  not  exactly  repeat  our  journey. 

Our  travel  in  Norwav  was  at  an  end,  and  we 
reviewed  our  Norwegian  tour  with  a  feeling  of 
most  complete  satisfaction.  We  had  had  the 
delight  of  looking  upon  beautiful  scenery,  which, 
being  not  yet  worn  threadbare  by  the  scratch  of 
the  traveler's  pen,  seemed  a  fresh  creation.  We 
had  lived  among  a  thoroughly  happy,  contented 
and  prosperous  people  ;  not  a  sign  of  misery  and 
poverty  had  we  anywhere  seen.  If  we  had  some- 
times wondered  what  people  found  to  think  about 
in  their  lonely  forest  homes,  we  yet  knew  that 
every  one  could  read  and  write,  and  had  received 
a  certain  degree  of  mental  and  moral  education. 
A  universal  air  of  decency  and  dignity  prevailed, 
while  nowhere  had  we  seen  a  naturally  stupid  or 
brutal  countenance ;  even  those  whom  we  had 
seen  under  the  cloud  of  drunkenness  were  peace- 
able, while  their  good  clothing  bespoke  industry 
and  self-respect  in  other  directions.  And  over 
all  this  hung  an  apparently  universal  satisfaction 
with   their   Government,   which   protects  without 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  285 

Oppressing,  and  the  ready,  hearty  tone  in  which 
everybody  whom  we  questioned  replied,  "We 
have  the  best  Government  in  the  world,"  carried 
with  it  a  conviction  of  their  sincerity,  and  a 
conviction  that  they  are  a  free  and  happy  people. 

Christl\nla,  September,  1875. 


286  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


XXVIII. 

SWEDEN  AND  ITS    LAKES— A  SWEDISH  INN. 

WE  DEN  loses  greatly  thereby  when  the 
traveler  in  Scandinavia  visits  Norway 
before  seeing  the  former  country,  for 
Sweden  is  picturesque  enough  with  a  beauty  of  its 
own,  but  in  comparison  with  Norway  it  is  tame 
and  unromantic.  I  speak  only  of  the  south  of 
Sweden,  as  we  did  not  get  farther  north  than 
Upsula  ;  but  if  we  did  not  see  it  in  its  whole 
length,  we  did  see  it  in  its  widest  breadth  from 
west  to  east,  making  the  journey  from  Christiania 
to  Stockholm,  which  requires  exactly  two  days  by 
rail,  stopping  over  night  to  sleep.  The  striking 
feature  of  the  south  of  Sweden  is  her  lakes,  and 
although  these  are  exceedingly  charming  and 
pretty,  and  oftentimes  still  more  than  these 
commonplace  words  express,  it  is  yet  in  Sweden 
one  learns  that  what  shading  is  to  a  picture, 
mountains  are  to  a  lake  ;  you  may  see  a  thousand 
mountain  lakes,  one  after  another,  and  ever  find 
the  last  more  charming  ;  but  in  a  level  country, 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  287 

however  fine  the  coloring  of  the  surrounding 
landscape,  they  soon  begin  to  lose  in  expression, 
then  you  weary  of  them  a  little,  and  at  last  you 
think — to  yourself  if  with  natives  and  aloud  if  with 
foreigners  like  yourself — what  a  wet,  swampy 
country  this  must  be.  But  although  Norway  may 
be  the  favorite  with  the  traveler  in  search  of 
the  picturesque,  the  agriculturist  would  certainly, 
prefer  the  more  fertile  soil,  the  gentle  undulating 
fields  and  extensive  meadows  of  Sweden. 

There  was  a  sort  of  attraction  in  the  names  Lake 
Wenern  and  Lake  Wettern,  names  familiar  from 
early  school-days,  which  made  us  feel  that  we 
must  certainly  voyage  across  these  lakes,  but  after 
traveling  all  along  the  northern  shore  of  the 
former,  we  found  that  we  had  a  sufficiently  good 
idea  of  it  and  we  had  no  longer  any  desire  to 
embark  upon  either  of  them. 

Lake  Wenern  is  the  largest  lake  in  Sweden, 
having  an  area  of  ninety-five  geographical  square 
miles  ;  its  greatest  length  and  greatest  breadth  are 
apparently  about  equal,  its  coast  line  is  very 
irregular,  broken  by  deep  inlets  and  jutting 
peninsulas  ;  it  has  also  several  important  islands  ; 
thirty  rivers  empty  into  it. 

The  form  of  Lake  Wettern,  which  is  but  half 
the  size  of  Wenern,  having  an  area  of  only  thirty- 
four  geographical  square  miles,  is  very  different 
from  that  of  the  latter  lake.      Nearly  as  long,  it  is 


288  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL 

very  narrow  in  proportion  to  its  length,  and  it  has 
a  comparatively  regular  coast  line  ;  ninety  rivers 
empty  themselves  into  it,  while  it  has  but  one  for 
an  outlet — the  Motala-Elf.  This  lake  is  subject 
to  terrible  tempests  which  often  arise  in  a  moment ; 
it  is  noted  for  its  strong-  currents,  its  whirlpools, 
and  especially  for  its  magnificent  mirages.  Both 
lakes  have  an  average  depth  of  about  four  hundred 
feet. 

Not  long  after  leaving  Christiania  we  came  within 
sight  of  the  river  Glommen,  along  whose  banks  the 
railroad  runs  for  some  distance.  Soon  after  sunset 
we  had  made  the  distance  to  Lake  Wenern,  and 
alono-  its  coast  to  Kristinehamm,  a  little  town  but 
yet  quite  important  as  a  market-place  for  iron. 
Standing  on  the  steps  of  the  depot  considering  in 
which  direction  weshould  turn  for  a  night's  lodging, 
we  saw,  not  many  rods  distant,  a  respectable- 
looking  two-story  house  with  a  terribly  hard- 
looking  name,  and  although  we  would  not  have 
objected  to  walking  a  little  further  in  the  pleasant 
twilight,  we  had  learned  the  full  value  of  lodgings 
conveniently  near  a  railroad  station  when  obliged 
to  be  in  season  for  an  early  morning  train.  Once 
within  this  house  we  found  it  a  specimen  of  the 
most  extreme  neatness ;  our  large,  square  room 
seemed  actually  brilliant  with  cleanliness  ;  there 
was  not  a  thread  of  carpet  on  the  floor  to  cover  the 
exceeding  whiteness  of  its  plain  boards  ;  perhaps 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  289 

the  particular  kind  of  wood  was  capable  of  being 
scoured  to  a  purer  white  than  any  wood  we  have, 
but  whether  the  merit  lay  in  the  wood  or  in  the 
housekeeper,  I  shall  never  be  able  to  picture  to 
myself  rural  life  in  Sweden  without  having  in  the 
foreground  a  floor  of  dazzling  whiteness.  Then, 
besides,  there  were  on  the  beds  real  clean  sheets 
whose  freshness  was  sweet  as  perfume  ;  I  say  real 
clean  because  in  Europe  there  are  two  kinds  of 
clean  beds,  real  clean  and  make-believe  clean,  and 
even  in  the  best  European  hotels  it  is  not  easy  to 
find  a  bed  of  the  former  character.  The  make- 
believe  clean  is  the  result  of  taking  sheets  already 
used,  sprinkling  them  sufficiently  to  remove  the 
wrinkles,  then  folding  them  and  pressing  them  in  a 
rolling  machine  or  mangle  ;  the  tired  traveler  turns 
back  the  bed  clothes  the  next  night,  examines 
them,  probably  by  the  dim  light  of  a  tallow  candle, 
and  accepts  the  deep,  fresh  creases  as  a  warrant 
of  cleanliness. 

Served  in  such  a  room  as  we  found  here  of 
course  we  could  not  but  relish  our  supper, 
especially  when  waited  upon  by  one  of  the 
brightest,  tidiest  little  bodies  in  the  world — it 
seemed  as  if  her  very  clothes  were  made  of  good 
nature.  After  supper  we  went  out  to  take  a  stroll 
under  the  beautiful  evening-sky  and  enjoy  a 
moonlight  view  of  Lake  Wenern.  On  returning, 
I    found    the    good-natured    house-maid     hostess 


290  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

deeply  absorbed  in  reading  my  book  of  German 
and  Swedish  phrases.  She  looked  up,  smiled, 
nodded,  and  then  went  on  reading  until  I  was  at 
last  obliged  to  remind  her  of  what  she  had  come 
into  the  room  to  do.  Afterward,  she  was  as 
pleased  and  delighted  as  a  child  in  teaching  me  to 
pronounce  various  words,  almost  indispensable  to 
our  comfortable  travel  in  Sweden.  I  ordered 
potatoes  for  breakfast  with  perfect  confidence  in 
making  myself  understood,  for  the  word  is  spelled 
nearly  the  same  as  in  our  language,  but  as  she 
shook  her  head  again  and  again,  I  at  last 
showed  her  the  word  which  she  pronounced  by 
transposing  all  the  vowels,  as  it  seemed  to  my 
English  ears. 

As  we  wished  to  exchange  some  Danish  money, 
our  attendant  offered  to  bring  some  one  to  do  it ; 
thereupon  appeared  at  our  door  an  exceedingly 
well-dressed  man  with  broad  face  and  still  broader 
smile,  and  behind  him  a  friend,  evidently  to  keep 
him  in  countenance  in  presence  of  the  Eyiglanders, 
as  they  took  us  to  be.  The  foreign  gold-piece  was 
looked  upon  as  a  curiosity  desirable  to  possess, 
and  as  we  knew  its  approximate  value  the  exchange 
was  soon  made. 

The  men  were  overflowing  with  a  sort  of  hospit- 
able amiability,  not  diminished  by  the  effects  of  a 
little  stimulant  evidently  taken  just  before  their 
visit ;  hence,  the  business  completed,  there  they 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  29 1 

remained,  speechless,  except  what  their  broad- 
smiHng.  good-natured  faces  and  friendly-beaming 
eyes  said,  yet  were  they  unwilHng  to  go  without 
in  some  other  way  bidding  us  welcome.  Finding 
the  duty  of  dismissing  them  devolving  upon 
ourselves,  we  thanked  them,  shook  hands  with 
them  and  bade  them  good  night,  then  they  shook 
hands  with  us  and  bade  us  good  night,  but  still 
remained  standing  where  they  were,  unsatisfied 
or  uncertain  whether  to  go  or  stay  ;  so  we  again 
shook  hands  with  them,  then  they  with  us,  and 
thus,  reciprocally  smiling,  nodding  and  hand- 
shaking, we  gradually  approached  the  door,  where 
they  were  at  last  enabled  to  make  their  exit  with 
a  final  bow,  smile  and  good  night. 

Our  attendant  now  finished  her  arranoements  in 
the  room  giving  a  good-natured  air  to  everything 
she  touched.  A  glass  of  fresh,  cool  water  was 
thoughtfully  placed  by  the  bedside,  and  one  more 
extra  rub  and  polish  given  to  the  toilette-table  ; 
then,  as  she  turned  to  leave  the  room,  to  our 
repeated  warnings  not  to  forget  to  wake  us  in 
season,  she  nodded  and  laughed  again  as  she  took 
the  key  to  our  room  in  her  hand,  went  out,  and 
carefully  locked  us  in  from  the  outside  ;  after  that 
manoeuver  we  felt  that  she  had  indeed  taken  upon 
herself  the  responsibility  of  our  morrow's  journey. 

The  next  morning,  finding  we  could  take  a 
train  an  hour  later  than  we  had  intended,  we  had 


292  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

time  to  enjoy  the  outside  of  the  house,  which  was 
surrounded  on  all  sides  by  a  flower-garden,  and 
seldom,  for  the  same  size,  have  I  seen  a  rarer 
assortment  of  colors  or  more  beautiful  collection  of 
flowers.  I  found  myself  continually  exclaiming 
with  delight,  but  when  I  came  to  a  bed  of  golden 
escholtzias,  a  flower  I  had  not  seen  since  leaving 
California,  I  stood  and  gazed  in  silent  pleasure 
and  felt  as  if  it  were  a  greeting  from  home.  The 
abundance  of  flowers  warranted  my  picking  a 
bouquet  for  myself,  my  only  embarrassment, 
where  all  were  so  beautiful  and  many  so  new  to 
me,  being  to  decide  which  to  choose. 

In  all  our  travels  we  have  seldom  been  more 
agreeably  entertained  than  in  this  unpretending 
house — half  home,  half  hotel ;  there  was  in  all  such 
regard  for  nicety  and  comfort,  all  was  so  bright 
and  clean  that  we  began  to  wish  all  the  world  was 
a  Swedish  country-inn.  and  there  was  such  a 
cheery,  cheerful  air  about  everybody  and  every- 
thing, that  we  left  the  litde  place  with  the  impres- 
sion that  Kristinehamm  is  the  most  good-natured 
place  in  Christendom. 

Our  second  day's  travel  across  Sweden  was  not 
essentially  different  from  that  of  the  previous  day. 
except  that  the  landscape,  perhaps,  became  more 
watery.  There  have  been  many  expensive  canals 
constructed  in  Sweden  connecting  its  various  lakes. 
vSomehave  been  cut  through  solid  rock  at  immense 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  293 

expense,  but  as  the  system  of  railroads  widens  out 
year  by  year  over  the  country,  its  canals  gradually 
become  less  important  both  for  trade  and  travel. 
Baron  Ericsson  has  distinguished  himself  as  the 
constructor  of  many  such  works  of  civil  engineer- 
inor.  Amono-  the  various  others  the  Gota  Canal 
is  the  best  known  to  the  world  ;  it  has  fifty-three 
locks,  occupied  twenty-two  years  in  its  construction, 
and  cost  upwards  of  fourteen  million  rix-dollars, 
or  a  little  less  than  four  millions  of  our  money. 
Including  Lake  Wenern,  Lake  Wettern,  and  other 
lakes  whose  waters  it  connects,  it  extends  the 
whole  distance  across  the  south  of  Sweden  and 
connects  the  North  Sea  with  the  Baltic. 

Lake  Wenern,  5^/>/^;«^^7',  1875. 


294  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


XXIX. 

STOCKHOLM— HOUSE  OF  EMANUEL  SWEDENBORG— 
ROYAL   PALACE— HOTELS. 

^  TOCKHOLM,  the  capital  of  Sweden, 
claims,  from  its  situation,  to  be  ranked 
among  the  most  beautiful  cities  of  Europe, 
and  in  this  respect  Constantinople  is,  by  some, 
considered  its  only  rival.  Neither  like  Copen- 
hagen, lying  low  like  a  floating  flower,  nor  like 
Naples,  rising  amphitheatre-like  above  its  blue 
walls,  it  is  built  on  many  rocks  and  islands  of 
unequal  height  and  size,  that  are  washed  on  the 
east  by  the  Baltic  Sea  and  on  the  west  by  Lake 
Maelar,  whose  broad,  open  waters  seem  almost 
more  sea-like  than  the  Baltic  itself,  dotted  as  the 
latter  is  with  thick-set  rocks  and  islets.  From  its 
higher  points  it  is  easy  to  get  a  bird's-eye  view  of 
the  city,  to  see  the  mingling  waters  of  sea  and  lake 
intersecting  it  like  broad  and  winding  streets,  and 
the  numberless  bridijes,  sometimes  lono-,  sometimes 
hardly  a  couple  of  rods  in  length,  like  a  mesh  of 
slender  threads  spun  from  isle  to  isle.  Of  course 
the  impression  of  a  city  like  this,  variegated  with 
blocks  of  well-built    houses    alternating    with    its 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  295 

Streets  of  liquid-blue  lined  with  the  white  sails  of 
shipping,  cannot  be  otherwise  than  cheerful  and 
pleasing,  while  its  most  magnificent  buildings  all 
have,  either  from  choice  or  necessity,  an  open  and 
imposing  foreground. 

In  its  narrowest  sense,  the  city  of  Stockholm  is 
built  on  but  three  islands,  which  lie  directly  in  the 
channel,  almost  blocking  it  up,  where  the  waters 
of  Lake  Maelar  and  the  Baltic  unite ;  these  three 
islands  are  named  in  the  order  of  their  size — 
Stadsholmen,  or  the  Isle  of  the  City,  on  this  the 
palace  of  the  king  is  built — Riddarsholmen,  or  the 
Isle  of  the  Knights,  where  we  find  the  principal 
government  buildings — and  Helgeandsholmen,  or 
the  Isle  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  a  very  small  island 
where  the  royal  stables  are  the  principal  thing  of 
interest. 

But  as  the  City  of  London  constitutes  but  a 
small  part  of  Metropolitan  London,  so  these 
islands  are  but  the  kernel  of  Stockholm,  which 
spreads  out  at  the  north  and  northeast  in  two 
large  faubourgs  built  on  a  peninsula,  and  at  the 
south  makes  an  equally  large  faubourg  occupying 
two  or  three  islands,  one  of  them  almost  the 
largest  in  these  waters  ;  besides  this,  Stockholm 
covers  several  other  islands,  amonof  which  is 
Kungsholmen,  or  King's  Island,  while  the  eastern 
part  of  the  city  still  embraces  four  islands  lying 
wholly  in  the  waters  of  the  Baltic  and  collectively 


296  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

known  under  the  poetical  name  of  the  "  Isles  of  the 
Sea."  On  Kungsholmen  we  find  the  Mint,  Insane 
Asylum,  City  Hospital,  Military  College,  Orphan 
Asylum  and  the  principal  factories  of  Stockholm. 
On  Castelholmen  we  have  the  citadel.  Longhol- 
men  is  mostly  occupied  by  the  Penitentiary,  and, 
in  short,  we  find  so  many  islands,  each  with  its 
almost  characteristic  group  of  buildings,  that 
Stockholm  seems  like  an  illustration  of  our  old 
proverb  with  a  difference — an  island  for  everything 
and  everything  on  its  island.  In  connection  with 
the  southern  faubourg  I  must  not  forget  to  men- 
tion a  spot  of  great  interest  to  many  American 
travelers,  the  house  and  garden  of  Emanuel 
Swedenborg. 

With  scarcely  a  follower  or  believer  in  all 
Sweden — a  prophet  without  honor  in  his  own 
country — here  he  was  looked  upon,  as  I  learned  to 
my  great  surprise,  as  a  half-insane  charlatan,  and 
hence  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  this  is  a 
neglected,  dirty  spot  whose  associations  its  nearest 
neighbors  know  little  or  nothing  about.  The 
house  in  which  he  lived  is  occupied  by  tenants  of 
the  poorer  class  of  people;  what  is  called  his 
"  study  "  is  a  small  wooden  house  in  the  garden, 
and  this  is  unoccupied  and  entirely  empty,  though 
kept  tolerably  clean-swept.  One  is  fortunate  if, 
after  a  dozen  inquiries  in  the  immediate  neighbor- 
hood, he  finds  any  one  to  conduct  or  direct  him 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  297 

to  the  spot.  The  garden  is  a  kind  of  back-yard 
partitioned  off  from  a  common  court  surrounded 
by  a  block  of  buildings,  and  it  is  only  accessible 
throuQfh  one  of  these  houses.  The  front  of 
this  little  garden-house  presents  a  door  two  or 
three  steps  from  the  ground,  and  a  small  window 
with  outside  wooden  shutters  on  either  side  of  the 
door  ;  a  low,  attic  room  under  the  slanting  roof  is 
shown  as  the  place  where,  in  his  inspired  moods, 
he  often  passed  the  night;  the  doorway  is  shaded 
by  trees,  one  of  which  is  said  to  have  been  planted 
by  his  own  hand;  every  visitor  is  allowed  to  break 
off  or  cut  a  memento  from  a  beam  inside  the 
house,  and  to  carry  away  as  many  leaves  from  the 
tree  as  he  chooses;  nature  sends  a  fresh  supply 
of  leaves  every  year  and  new  beams  as  often  as 
they  are  needed.  One  would  think  that  some  of 
Swedenborg's  wealthy  followers  in  our  own  country 
might  well  do  something  toward  the  preserva- 
tion and  cleanly  maintenance  of  this  spot  which 
should  be  almost  sacred  to  them. 

The  Royal  Palace,  from  its  size,  and  open,, 
exposed  position,  is  one  of  the  most  prominent 
buildings  in  Stockholm,  It  is  situated  on  an 
eminence  on  the  northeastern  corner  of  the  island  of 
Stadsholmen,  a  carriage-road  only  intervening,  on 
these  two  sides,  between  the  broad,  open  arm  of 
P  the  sea  and  its  lofty  walls;  from  its  northern  ram- 

parts a  fine  granite    bridge  extends    first  to  the 

19 


298  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

island  of  Helgeandsholmen,  and  then  to  the  oppo- 
site shore,  where  a  spacious  square  corresponds 
with  the  palace  crowning  its  opposite  extremity; 
this  square  bears  the  name  of  Gustavus  Adolphus, 
whose  statue  ornaments  its  center;  the  three  sides 
of  the  square  are  occupied  respectively  by  a  fine 
hotel,  the  palace  of  the  Crown  Prince,  and  the 
opera  house.  The  Royal  Palace  is  a  quadrangular 
building  of  grand  proportions,  418  feet  from  north 
to  south  by  392  feet  from  east  to  west;  it  is  built 
around  a  court  300  feet  long  by  262  feet  in  width; 
this  court  is  entered  on  its  four  sides  by  four  grand 
portals  built  in  the  walls  of  the  palace.  The 
northern  portal,  the  rampart  leading  to  which  is 
named  from  its  two  colossal  bronze  lions  on  granite 
pedestals,  bears  the  coat-of-arms  of  Sweden,  a 
triple  crown  supported  by  Fame;  its  southern 
wall  Is  ornamented  by  trophies  of  war;  its  western 
front  bears  enormous  caryatides  in  stone  with  nine 
medallion  portraits  representing  the  kings  of 
Sweden  from  Gustavus  I.  to  Charles  IX.;  under 
the  portico  of  the  eastern  entrance  is  a  colossal 
group  representing  History  recording  the  exploits 
of  Gustavus  the  Great;  this  portal  is  the  private 
entrance  of  the  royal  family  and  is  approached 
through  the  private  gardens  which,  sloping  down 
from  the  palace  wall,  command  a  fine  view  out  into 
the  Baltic,  and  down  upon  the  shipping  anchored 
at  the  long  line  of  wharves. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  299 

Notwithstanding  the  almost  unequaled  position, 
commanding  as  it  does,  sea  and  city,  the  palace  is 
magnificent  only  in  position  and  size;  its  long  line  of 
comparatively  plain  brown  walls  gives  it  a  barrack- 
like aspect.  Within,  the  stairways  are  grand 
in  proportion  and  beautiful  in  outline,  but  inferior 
in  richness  to  many  other  European  palaces;  the 
family  living-rooms,  too,  were  too  high,  too  square, 
and  too  plain  to  look  really  social  and  home-like, 
and  seemed  to  want  the  charm  of  taste  in  arrange- 
ment, particularly  (to  my  thinking  at  least)  where 
table-sets  of  valuable  service-china  ornamented  the 
walls  instead  of  pictures;  a  cabinet  containing  a 
tea-service  belonging  to  Marie  Antoinette  was 
more  interesting.  A  room  called  the  Porcelain 
Cabinet,  also  seemed  to  me  more  curious  than 
pretty,  although  its  furniture  is  said  to  be  very 
valuable.  This  was  bought  by  Gustavus  III. 
and  is  wholly  of  Dresden  china;  it  consists  of 
etageres,  picture-frames  and  mirror-frames,  wall- 
brackets,  a  whole  chimney-piece  surmounted  by  a 
high  mirror,  vases,  candlesticks,  candelabra  and 
chandelier  and  tables,  all  made  of  porcelain;  the 
tops  of  the  tables  are  fine  landscape  views  painted 
on  china;  all  the  rest  is  ornamental,  representing 
leaves,  vines,  flowers,  birds,  etc.  The  chairs  were 
upholstered,  the  frames  only  being  of  porcelain. 

The  hotel  accommodations  here  are  excellent, 
and  the  Grand  Hotel  of  Stockholm  is  one  of  the 


300  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

finest  in  Europe,  and  really  worth  being  visited 
for  its  beauty.  The  passages  are  called  streets 
and  are  named  from  different  cities,  and  thus  your 
room  is  known  as  26  New  York  Street,  or  81 
Paris  Street,  etc.  If  I  were  to  mention  one  thing 
more  elephant  than  another  in  the  mag'nificent 
dining-hall  it  would  be  the  two  beautiful  porcelain 
stoves.  These  must  be  sixteen  feet  or  more  in 
height.  The  lower  part  is  of  the  size  and  shape 
of  our  marble  mantels,  with  grate  and  mantel-shelf; 
the  stove  continues  upward  like  a  broad  chimney 
terminating  in  a  cornice-like  ornamentation.  The 
whole  is  of  beautiful  porcelain,  the  principal  color 
beinor  a  delicate  blue  with  lines  of  o-old.  Above 
the  mantel-shelf  is  a  deep  niche  in  which  stands  a 
graceful  urn  or  vase,  matching  the  rest  in  material 
and  color;  the  vases  are  between  two  and  three 
feet  in  height  and  both  stoves  are  alike.  The 
walls  of  the  reading-rooms  are  maps  and  railroad- 
routes  in  plaster.  The  smoking-room  is  almost 
entirely  of  porcelain,  an  admirable  arrangement  in 
point  of  cleanliness;  the  ceiling  and  side  walls 
are  of  the  same  material  ;  in  the  centre  of  the 
room  stands  a  curious,  fanciful-shaped,  porcelain 
stove. 

There  were  elegant  apartments,  one  of  the 
finest  of  which  was  awaiting  the  arrival  of  Ole 
Bull,  who  here  shares  the  usual  fate  of  a  prophet 
in  his  own  country,  where  is  told  a  sad  tale  of 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  3OI 

his  first  marriage  with  bitter  fruit  of  infelicity 
and  insanity  ;  yet  who  shall  say  that  the  incom- 
parable notes  of  this  unique  artist  so  child-like 
simple  yet  so  grand  as  he  was  wont  to  stand 
before  us,  were  not  the  echo  from  a  finely  strung 
nature  quivering  under  the  stroke  of  a  concealed 
disappointment— were  not  expressed  from  a  suffer- 
ing soul  by  the  costly  alchemy  of  sorrow. 

Stockholm,  September,  1875. 


302  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


XXX. 

STOCKHOLM— PUBLIC  BUILDINGS— ROYAL    MAUSOLEUM 

TOCKHOLM,  skipping  about  from  island 
to  islet  and  up  and  down  over  the  rocks, 
wears  the  cheerful  air  of  comparative 
youth  on  the  face  of  most  of  her  buildings;  yet  is 
she  not  wanting  in  those  of  that  historical  associa- 
tion which  makes  an  unbroken  link  between  the 
heroes  of  antiquity  and  those  of  kindred  modern 
renown.  Of  all  such  buildings  we  find  the  most 
interesting  on  Riddarsholmen,  one  of  the  three 
islands  which  constitute  the  original  site  of  the 
city,  and  which  is,  perhaps,  the  most  interesting 
of  all.  In  an  open  square  in  its  center  stands  a 
bronze  statue  in  armor,  erected  in  1854  by  the 
citizens  of  Stockholm  to  Birger  Jarl,  regent  during 
the  minority  of  his  son  Waldemar  whom  the 
people  elected  their  king  very  early  in  the  thir- 
teenth century.  Birger  Jarl  is  considered  the 
founder  of  Stockholm,  for  although  under  its 
present  name  it  has  a  history — doubtfully  authen- 
tic— extending  back  to  the  fifth  century,  it  was  he 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL,  303 

who  first  appreciating  the  importance  of  its  situa- 
tion, erected  walls  around  the  Isle  of  the  Citv  and 
built  upon  it  two  towers,  one  on  a  precipice 
commanding  the  Baltic,  where  the  waters  were  of 
considerable  depth,  the  other  commanding  the 
southern  strait  between  the  lake  and  the  sea  ;  he 
thus  protected  the  city  and  fortified  the  entrance 
to  Lake  Maeler.  In  1272  King  Waldemar  removed 
his  capital  from  Upsala  to  Stockholm,  which  has 
ever  since  remained  the  capital  and  chief  citj'  of 
Sweden. 

Near  this  square  stands  the  Equestrian  Palace, 
the  former  House  of  Lords  of  the  Swedish  Diet, 
both  departments  of  which,  however,  since  its 
reconstruction,  occupy  the  Houses  of  Parliament 
built  on  this  same  island.  Thus  the  Equestrian 
Palace  stands  to-day  an  interesting  and  elegant 
historical  monument.  In  front  of  it  is  a  statue 
erected  by  the  nobility  to  Gustavus  Vasa,  in  the 
year  1773,  on  the  two  hundred  and  fiftieth  anni- 
versary of  that  King's  entrance  into  Stockholm. 
The  outer  front  of  the  palace  is  ornamented  with 
allegoric  statues  and  Latin  inscriptions  ;  the  halls 
of  its  interior  are  decorated  with  the  coats-of-arms 
of  all  the  royal  families  of  Sweden  and  with 
numberless  portraits  of  distinguished  Swedish 
nobles. 

But  the  most  interesting  building  of  all  is 
Riddarholmskyrkan — the  Church  of  the    Eques- 


304  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

trian  Isle,  or  Isle  of  Knights.  This  is  no  more, 
in  fact,  a  church,  but  a  royal  mausoleum.  It  is 
often  called  the  Westminster  Abbey  of  Sweden, 
unhappily,  I  think,  for  a  Westminster  Abbey  must 
have,  withal,  its  gende  minstrels  of  song  and  poesy 
— its  artists  of  peace  and  the  peaceful  arts,  while 
the  Church  of  the  Equestrian  Isle  echoes  but  with 
the  martial  notes  of  war  and  records  the  deeds  of 
warriors. 

For  nearly  one  hundred  years  it  hasbeen stripped 
of   all  the    paraphernalia  of  church    ceremonies, 
except  the  altar-piece  and  the  organ  in  a  gallery 
extending  across  one  end  only  of  the  church  ;  it 
has  a  chime  of  bells  heard  only  on  the  occasion  of 
the  death  of  some  member  of  the  royal  family,  or 
of  a  Knight  of  the  Royal  Order  of  the  Seraphim. 
We  enter  and  stand   in  the   nave  of  the    church, 
nearly  two  hundred  feet  long  and  a  third  as  wide  ; 
it  is  destitute  of  seats  and  unbroken  by  columns, 
while  its  whole  floor  is  a  pavement  of  flat  stones 
covered  with  the  names  of  distinguished  men  to 
whom   this  registry  of  their   names    is   the   only 
monument  to   their  memory.     Along  each  side  of 
the  nave  of  the  church  are  a  row  of  side-chapels, 
each  of  which  is  the  sepulture  place  of  a  company 
of  illustrious  warriors,  and  each  of  which  contains 
a    rich    sarcophagus.      Picture    to    yourself  these 
chapels,  the  walls  and  sides  almost  concealed  by 
the    trophies    of   victory,    flags    and    clusters    of 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  305 

Standards  that  have  been  captured  or  defended  on 
the  battle-field  by  the  very  warriors  over  whose 
moldering  dust  they  here  droop ;  on  the  floor 
irregular  heaps  of  drums,  kettle-drums,  bows  and 
other  relics  of  war,  make  an  indescribably  strange 
impression  in  this  hall  of  tombs,  and  I  found 
myself  wondering  whether  if  one  but  dared  to  beat 
upon  one  of  those  drums  whose  notes  had  often 
roused  so  many  a  sleeping  warrior,  if,  at  its  sound, 
the  dead  would  not  spring  from  their  tombs,  and, 
seizing  the  familiar  standards  there  at  hand,  fill  the 
empty  space  with  a  ghostly  army.  I  can  hardly 
conceive  of  a  person  standing  for  the  first  time  in 
this  temple  of  death  and  war,  without  having  his 
imagination  strangely  and  supernaturally  moved. 

The  chapel  nearest  to  the  altar  on  the  right  is 
called  the  Gustavian  Chapel  ;  its  architecture  is 
Gothic,  and  it  is  lighted  by  seven  long,  narrow 
windows ;  it  is  the  burial  place  of  several  royal 
personages,  but  isdedicated  principally  to  Gustavus 
the  Great,  the  champion  of  Lutheran  Protestant- 
ism, who  died  on  the  battle  field  of  Lutzen  ;  his 
remains  are  enclosed  in  a  sarcophagus  of  green 
marble,  a  piece  of  Italian  sculpture  ;  on  a  marble 
slab  is  the  following  inscription  in  Latin  ;  "  He 
braved  dangers,  loved  piety,  overcame  his  enemies, 
enlarged  hisdominions,  exalted  his  nation,  liberated 
the  oppressed  and  triumphed  in  death." 

Opposite  this  chapel  at  the  left   of  the  altar  is 


306  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

the  Chapel  of  the  Charles,  in  which,  however, 
several  other  persons  have  found  sepulture.  As 
we  stand  in  the  street  or  square  outside  of  the 
church  and  look  at  this  chapel,  which  was  added 
to  the  main  building  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
seventeenth  and  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  w^e  read  the  following  inscription  in  Latin 
on  the  upper  part  of  its  outer  walls  : 

"  Erected  to  the  eternal  memory  of  the  three 
Charles,  Charles  X..  Charles  XL,  Charles  XI L, 
of  Sweden  ;  the  first  conquered  four  provinces  ; 
the  second  victoriously  defended  them  ;  the  third 
preferred  rather  to  die  as  ruler  than  not  to  keep 
what  others  had  won." 

As  may  well  be  imagined,  none  of  the  sepulchral 
chapels  are  so  crowded  with  emblems,  trophies 
and  relics  of  war  as  this  ;  the  sarcophagus  which 
ornaments  it  contains  the  bodv  of  Charles  XI  L; 
it  is  of  white  marble  on  a  pedestal  of  green  marble, 
and  partially  covering  its  top  is  an  ornament  in 
gilt-bronze  representing  a  lion's  skin  bearing  the 
name  Carolus  XI L,  and  on  this  skin  area  crown, 
sceptre  and  sword,  likewise  in  gilt-bronze. 

It  cannot  be  disputed  that  Sweden  is  proud  of 
her  Charles  XII.,  for  how  could  she  help  being 
so  when  all  the  world  is  proud  of  him  '^  But  it  is 
pretty  hard  for  a  nation  when  such  remarkable  glory 
as  was  won  for  it  and  himself  by  this  wonderful 
man,  is  paid   for   in   the    financial  ruin,   extensive 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  307 

loss  of  territory  and  enormous  depopulation  of  his 
kingdom.  Every  man  in  the  nation  seems  to  feel 
it  and  almost  to  smart  under  it  still,  and  we  did  not 
speak  with  any  one  Swede  concerning  his  Charles 
XII.,  who  did  not  betray  that  his  feeling  of  pride 
was  a  modified  one  ;  it  was  as  if  he  said  with  a 
sigh,  "Yes,  we  are  proud  to  have  had  him,  but 
we  would  rather  dispense  with  such  glory  in  the 
future — it  costs  too  much."  In  short,  they  have 
put  to  themselves  the  question  so  often  asked  by 
us  all,  "Does  it  pay?"  and,  like  ourselves  oft- 
times,  are  obliged  to  reply  in  the  negative. 

In  the  King's  Park,  in  another  part  of  the  city, 
is  a  splendid  gilt-bronze  statue  of  Charles  XII. 
At  the  base  of  the  high  granite  pedestal  are  four 
cannons  taken  by  him  in  war.  The  attitude  is 
striking  and  commanding  ;  in  one  gauntleted  hand 
is  his  sword,  the  other  is  pointing  forward.  He 
is  represented  as  tall  and  .slender,  of  the  most 
erect  figure  imaginable  ;  the  same  long,  elliptical 
face  without  beard  that  we  always  see  in  his 
portraits  ;  forehead  high  but  not  broad  ;  large 
nose,  full  lips  and  prominent  chin,  such  as  it  is 
difficult  to  imagine  in  a  face  characterized  on  the 
whole  by  an  almost  extreme  delicacy;  add  to  this 
an  expression  which  inspires  enthusiasm  for  him, 
and  which  one  can  readily  conceive  might  inspire 
his  soldiers  with  the  power  and  the  certainty  of 
victory.      It  is  the  embodiment  of  the  very  spirit 


308  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

of  youth  and  genius,  so  winning  that  even  his 
faults  become  virtues,  and  one's  admiration  grows 
into  love. 

Among  other  remarkable  things  to  be  seen  in 
the  Church  of  the  Equestrian  Isle,  are  the  shields 
of  the  deceased  knights  of  the  Royal  Order  of 
Seraphims.  These  number  some  hundreds  and 
are  placed  close  together,  covering  a  large  space 
on  the  walls  ;  they  are  black  and  apparently  of 
tin  ;  each  is  less  than  a  foot  square,  and  bears 
only  the  name  of  the  Knight,  the  date  of  his 
decoration  with  the  Order,  and  that  of  his  death. 
1  believe  none  but  Crowned  Heads  or  royal 
consorts  receive  this  decoration,  and  it  is  only  at 
the  death  of  the  Knight  that  his  shield  is  placed 
here;  that  of  Napoleon  III.  was  the  latest.  Here 
also  were  the  shields  of  Napoleon  I.  and  of 
Albert,  late  Prince  Consort  of  England.  Cath- 
erine the  Great  is  the  only  woman  who  has  ever 
received  the  honor  of  being  decorated  with  this 
Order.  As  the  guide  was  calling  our  attention 
to  different  names  of  note,  I  playfully  asked  him 
if  there  were  none  from  America,  when  he 
immediately  pointed  to  the  shield  of  the 
unfortunate  Maximilian,  Emperor  of  Mexico. 

The  exterior  of  the  Equestrian  Church  is  quite 
picturesque,  although  less  ancient  in  appearance 
than  in  reality,  owing  to  the  extensive  repairs 
made  since  its  considerable  injury  by  lightning  in 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  309 

the  year  1835  ;  but  its  tower  of  open  ifon-work 
three  hundred  feet  high,  the  gothic  style  of  the 
main  building,  and  the  several  chapels  added  to 
the  oricjinal  buildinyf  no  two  of  which  are  alike  in 
size  or  architecture,  give  it  a  pleasingly  original 
character. 

Stockholm,  September,  1875. 


3IO  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


XXXI. 

STOCKHOLM'S  MUSEUM— MYTHOLOGY  IN  STATUARY  AND 

PAINTINGS— RELICS. 

VERY  orem  of  architecture  is  the 
National  Museum  in  Stockhohn,  and 
its  site  is  most  favorable  to  the  showing- 
off  of  the  beauty  of  its  exterior.  It  is  built  on 
the  extremity  of  a  peninsula,  with  only  a  broad 
avenue  between  it  and  the  surrounding  granite 
quay  which  throws  back  the  waves  of  the  Baltic; 
directly  opposite,  on  the  other  shore  of  this  arm 
of  the  sea  rises  the  Royal  Palace.  The  Museum 
is  of  granite  and  marble,  a  modern  building 
three  stories  high  and  only  about  ten  years  old. 
Its  front  is  ornamented  with  marble  statues  and 
busts  of  Sweden's  distinguished  scholars  in 
letters  and  science.  Entering  beneath  the  portico 
of  green  marble  your  eye  takes  in  the  beauty  of 
the  interior  from  foundation  to  roof.  On  each 
side  of  the  grand  entrance-hall  is  a  semi-circular 
marble  stairway ;  these%  two  meet  on  the  first 
story  at  the  foot  of  another  marble  stairway 
which  reaches  like  an  inclined  plane  to  the  upper 
story.      Looking  up  then  from  the  vestibule,   you 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  3  I  I 


have  before  you  the  broad  stairway  reveahng  the 
whole  depth  of  the  building,  with  spacious 
surrounding  halls  supported  by  marble  columns, 
lighted  from  the  roof  of  glass,  and  richly  filled 
with  statuary,  for  these  broad  central  corridors 
constitute  part  of  the  galleries  of  sculpture.  In 
the  lower  hall  within  the  semi-circle  formed  by  the 
stairs  stand  two  colossal  marble  statues,  while  a 
third  corresponding  one  looks  down  upon  them 
from  the  first  landing  and  completes  this  group 
which  receives  us  and  introduces  us  to  the  halls 
of  Scandinavian  history  and  Scandinavian  art. 
These  three  statutes  represent  Odin,  Thor  and 
Balder,  the  three  great  gods  of  the  mythology  of 
the  north,  whose  memory  modern  civilization 
perpetuates  in  Odin's  or  Wodin's  day  (Wednes- 
day), and  Thor's  day  (Thursday). 

Scandinavian  polytheism  presents  itself  to  us 
under  two  aspects;  the  one,  allegoric  or  mythologic; 
the  other,  historical;  in  the  one,  Odin  corresponds 
to  the  Jupiter  of  Grecian  mythology,  his  name 
sometimes  signifying  the  heavens  or  the  sky,  as 
Jupiter  sometimes  represented  the  Aether  personi- 
fied ;  in  the  other  Odin,  the  leader  of  invading 
conquerors  from  Asia,  becomes  King  of  Scandi- 
navia and  High  Priest. 

In  the  Odinic  polytheism  we  meet  with  the 
Gods  and  the  Giants  ;  the  former  typifying 
creative  and  preserving  powers,  the  latter  devas- 


312  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

tating  and  destructive  powers.  The  Giants 
existed  prior  to  the  Gods,  as  chaos,  disorder,  and 
darkness  preceded  creation,  order  and  light ;  and 
they  dwelt  in  subterranean  darkness,  inventing 
maliofn  influences  on  man.  The  Gods  inhabited 
celestial  regions,  dwelt  amid  delights,  and  occupied 
themselves  with  beneficial  influences. 

In  a  historical  aspect,  the  Giants  were  the 
aboriginal  inhabitants  of  Scandinavia,  who  resisted 
the  introduction  into  their  country  of  the  religion 
of  their  invading  conquerors.  The  natives,  or 
Giants,  had  not  yet  learned  the  art  of  weaving 
cloth  or  of  tanning  hides  ;  they  protected  them- 
selves from  cold  by  wearing  the  skins  of  beasts, 
and  as  they  did  not  remove  from  them  the  head 
and  horns,  this  added  greatly  to  their  apparent 
stature  and  gave  them  so  fierce  an  appearance, 
that  their  enemies  ascribed  to  them  the  united 
natures  of  man  and  of  beast.  Such  is  probably  a 
mode  of  dress  common  to  all  savages,  as  the  first 
Carthaginian  and  Phoenician  navigators  who 
landed  on  the  British  Isles,  to  introduce  commerce 
there,  report  that  these  Islands  were  inhabited  by 
giants  with  human  bodies  and  heads  of  wolf,  boar, 
wild-bull.  etc. 

The  Odinic  mythology  is  preserved  to  us  in 
two  books  called  the  two  Eddas,  Edda  being  the 
Icelandic  word  signifying  great-grandmother  or 
ancestress;   it  was  given  by  the  first  compiler,   a 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  313 

Christian  native  priest  born  in  1054,  to  the  first 
of  these  books  known  as  the  Elder  Edda,  in 
contradistinction  from  the  younger  or  prose  Edda. 
One  of  the  books  of  the  Elder  Edda  is  known 
as  The  Sublime  Discourse  of  Odin.  It  consists 
of  a  series  of  moral  maxims  reminding  one  of  the 
Proverbs  of  Solomon.  One  of  them  reads  thus  : 
"The  foolish  man  watches  all  the  night  and  thinks 
of  many  things.  When  the  morning  comes  he  is 
wearied,  and  his  grief  still  remains  with  him;" 
another:  "Thy  troops  shall  die,  thy  friends  shall 
die,  and  thou  thyself  shalt  die;  but  a  good  name 
shall  live  forever  ;"  a  third  :  "  The  best  pro- 
vision the  traveler  can  take  with  him  is  wisdom. 
In  a  strange  place  it  is  worth  more  than  gold." 
If  this  last  be  true,  we  must  have  left  our  wisdom 
at  home,  for  thus  far  in  our  travels  we  have  always 
found  our  money  our  best  friend.  The  mytho- 
logical portion  of  the  Edda  makes  Odin  the  father 
of  man  and  of  the  Gods.  He  created  the  world 
by  throwing  the  body  of  the  giant  Ymir  into  the 
primeval  abyss,  which  abyss  was  bordered  on  the 
north  by  the  region  of  darkness,  and  on  the  south 
by  the  region  of  fire  ;  from  the  flesh  of  this  giant 
was  created  the  land,  from  his  blood  the  sea,  from 
his  bones  the  mountains,  from  his  hair  the  forests, 
from  his  skull  the  heavens,  whose  stars  are  sparks 
that  flew  from  the  southern   region    of  fire,  and 

from  his  brain   the  haze  and  fogs  ;  the  latter,  by 
20 


314  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

the  way,  is  no  compliment  to  his  clear-headedness. 
The  worms  developed  from  the  corrupted  flesh 
of  Ymir  became  that  mischievous  but  skillful  race 
of  dwarfs  who  play  so  conspicuous  a  part  in 
Northern  mythology.  One  day,  as  Odin  and  his 
brothers  were  taking  a  walk,  they  met  two 
embryo  trees,  an  ash  and  an  alder.  Odin  breathed 
into  them  the  breath  of  life  ;  his  brother  eave 
them  intelligence ;  and  the  third,  blood  and  a 
beautiful  countenance.  Thus  were  created  man 
and  woman,  and  then  began  the  grand  cycle  of 
the  destinv  of  created  beings.  Afterwards,  in  a 
terrible  combat  between  the  Giants  and  the  Gods, 
the  world  was  destroyed  and  Odin  perished. 

Valhalla,  meaning  the  chosen  hall,  was  a  grand 
salon  in  the  celestial  palace  of  Odin,  where  he 
received  the  Gods  and  deified  heroes,  and  spread 
banquets  before  them.  Warriors  who  distinguished 
themselves  upon  the  field  of  battle,  were  borne 
thence  by  the  Valkyries,  celestial  virgins,  and 
transported  to  Valhalla ;  there  they  were  re- 
suscitated, and  Eir,  the  Goddess  of  Medicine, 
healed  their  wounds  by  pouring  upon  them  the 
juice  of  the  beet  root. 

Thor,  the  God  of  thunder,  was  the  son  of  Odin; 
Balder  was  also  his  son,  the  mother  being  Frigga, 
from  whom  we  have  PVigga's  day,  or  Friday. 
She  was  the  goddess  of  marriage,  the  Juno  of 
Northern  mythology. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


O'D 


Balder  was  the  most  beautiful  and  amiable  of 
beings,  beloved  by  all.  The  mythology  of  the 
North  had  conceived  the  idea  of  life  in  the  world 
as  a  struggle  between  good  and  evil  powers  ; 
between  the  Giants  and  the  Gods.  The  world 
was  to  come  to  an  end  by  a  final  combat  between 
the  two,  in  which  the  Giants  should  prevail,  but 
so  long  as  Balder  the  Good  lived,  they  were 
secure.  Dreams  prophesy  to  the  latter  his 
approaching  destiny,  but  his  mother  engages  the 
divinities  to  unite  in  demanding  of  all  nature  to 
spare  the  life  of  Balder,  her  son.  Odin  commands 
fire  and  light  to  do  him  no  harm  ;  /Eglr,  the 
Neptune  of  the  North,  holds  back  the  sea  from 
assailing  him  ;  Freya,  the  Northern  Venus,  rules 
the  air,  her  empire,  in  his  favor  ;  and  Frigga 
controls  the  earth  and  all  that  it  brings  forth. 
Only  one  little  fragile  plant  was  forgotten — a 
branch  of  mistletoe.  Of  this  Loki,  the  spirit  of 
Evil  and  Deceit,  engaged  the  dwarfs  to  make  an 
arrow,  and,  placing  it  in  the  hands  of  a  blind 
brother  of  Balder,  who  loved  him  most  of  all,  at  a 
sort  of  tournament  given  by  the  Gods  to  prove 
the  invulnerability  of  Balder,  the  arrow  flew  and 
Balder  fell  dead  at  its  touch.  Loki,  as  punish- 
ment for  his  crime,  was  chained  among  the  rocks, 
where,  from  a  serpent  suspended  over  his  head, 
drops  of  venom  continually  fall  upon  his  face. 
Afterwards  the  earth  is  destroyed  by  a  sea  of  fire, 


3l6  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

but  from  its  molten  waves  arises  a  new  earth, 
over  which  Balder  and  his  beloved  brother,  whose 
hand  had  shot  the  fatal  arrow,  returned  to  reign 
in  peace,  and  dwell  in  the  new  halls  of  Odin.  A 
single  human  pair,  saved  from  the  universal 
destruction,  and  nourishing  themselves  with  dew, 
were  the  founders  of  the  new  human  race. 

Entering  the  gallery  of  paintings,  one  of  the 
first  pictures  we  see  represents  Thor  in  combat 
with  the  Giants.  He  is  seated  in  a  chariot  among 
clouds  and  forked  lightning;  two  Giants  have 
already  fallen  backward  before  his  strength,  and 
he  is  just  in  the  act  of  overcoming  the  third. 
Opposite  this  hangs  a  painting  of  Loki  chained  to 
the  rocks,  while  Sigyn,  true  to  her  woman's  nature, 
is  trying  to  catch  the  drops  of  venom  from  the 
mouth  of  the  serpent  coiled  on  the  rock  above  his 
head,  thus  preventing  their  falling  on  his  face. 

A  third  interesting  painting  was  of  Freya,  or 
Love,  the  Venus  of  Northern  mythology.  She  is 
represented  as  a  golden-haired  goddess  riding  in 
a  chariot  drawn  by  two  playful  kittens,  one  gray, 
one  yellow,  both  with  white  faces,  paws  and 
breasts;  seven  cherubs  with  gossamer  wings  nestle 
around  her,  follow  and  fly  before  in  the  bright 
clouds  through  which  her  chariot  rolls.  The 
husband  of  F'reya  was  Odur,  but  when  the  goddess 
Iduna,  guardian  of  the  apples  of  immortality,  was 
carried  off  by  one  of  the  Giants,   Freya,   with  all 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  3  I / 

the  Other  goddesses,  lost  her  youth  and  beauty, 
and  Odur,  disgusted  at  this  change,  abandoned 
her.  When  by  Thor's  efforts  Iduna  was  restored 
to  Valhalla,  Freya  recovered  her  beauty,  but  Odur 
never  returned  to  her.  Freya  bitterly  wept  his 
loss,  and  tJie  tears  of  her  constant  love  were  drops 
of  liquid  gold,  and  she  is  known  as  the  Goddess  of 
the  Golden    Tears. 

The  gallery  contains  over  one  thousand  oil- 
paintings,  some  of  which  are  the  work  of  royal 
hands,  of  Charles  XV.  and  his  son. 

In  the  regalia  room  of  the  museum  is  a  curious 
collection  of  royal  costumes,  coronation  robes,  etc., 
from  the  time  of  Gustavus  Vasa  to  the  late  king  ; 
the  different  garments  kept  m  glass  cases  bear  the 
names  of  the  owners,  and  dates  when  worn.  Some 
of  the  dresses  are  wholly  of  cloth  of  silver,  flounces, 
ruffles,  etc.,  of  the  same  material  embroidered  in 
flowers  and  other  patterns  of  silver  thread  on 
eold.  There  are  also  suits  of  velvet  embroidered 
all  over  with  the  Swedish  crown  in  gold  ;  there 
are  hundreds  of  such  suits  of  attire  both  for  men 
and    women. 

But  the  most  interesting  garments  of  all  are 
those  once  worn  by  Charles  XII  ;  here  are  an 
otter-skin  cap  and  the  light  brown  wig  worn  by 
him  as  a  disguise  on  his  return  from  Turkey,  and 
here  is  also  the  complete  suit  he  had  on  when 
killed  ;  the  rough,  much-worn  cow-hide  boots  with 


0 


I  8  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


spurs,  his  stockings,  shirt,  the  long  scarf  of  thin, 
dark  blue  silk,  which  he  wore  with  the  ends  tied 
behind  ;  the  long  blue  tight-buttoning  military 
coat,  fastened  from  throat  to  waist  with  brass 
buttons;  the  leather  pouch  slung  over  his  shoulders, 
and  the  long  blue  cloak  with  the  mud  upon  it  of 
his  last  ride  ;  the  three-cornered  leather  hat  turned 
back  with  one  brass  button,  with  the  hole  made  by 
the  fatal  bullet,  and  the  light-colored  leather 
gauntlets  stained  with  his  blood  as  he  raised  his 
hand  to  his  forehead  after  the  bullet  struck  him. 
In  still  another  room  is  seen  his  cradle,  his  baby- 
chair,  his  grandmother's  easy-chair,  and  at  last 
the  rouofh  wooden  bench  on  which  he  died  at 
only  thirty-seven  years  of  age;  that  wonderful 
man  whose  brilliant  career,  begun  even  in  boy- 
hood, a  whole  world  had  looked  upon  with 
amazement  and  awe  ;  this  General,  whom  Napo- 
leon took  as  his  model;  this  unique  example  in 
history,  with  his  fabulous  exploits  and  his  nine 
years  of  victories  whose  miraculous  escapes  and 
preservations  seemed  indeed,  to  warrant  his  confi- 
dence in  his  own  destiny  and  his  belief  that  he 
bore  a  charmed  life — and  yet  who  at  last  died, 
king  still,  but  king  of  a  plague-stricken,  impover- 
ished country;  one  more  illustration  of  the  old 
Grecian  maxim,  true  from  the  time  of  Solon  even 
to  our  own  day,  "Reckon  no  man  as  fortunate 
until  he  is  dead." 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  319 

The  museum  also  contains  departments  illus- 
trating the  history  of  Swedish  culture  in  earlier 
ages,  different  halls  being  devoted  respectively  to 
the  age  of  stone,  the  age  of  iron,  etc.  Among 
modern  relics  are  seen  the  diploma  of  Linnaeus 
and  some  chemical  apparatus  belonging  to  the 
celebrated  Swedish  chemist,  Berzelius.  In  the 
regalia  room  is  also  the  horse  ridden  by  Gustavus 
Adolphus  in  the  battle  in  which  he  was  killed. 

Stockholm,  September,  1875. 


320  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


XXXII. 

UPSALA— ITS    UNIVERSITY— CATHEDRAL— MONUMENTS- 
HOME  OF  LINN/EUS. 

^^HE  one  national  custom  which  I  particularly 
remarked  among  the  Swedes  and  Fin- 
landers  was  the  eating  of  what  was  called 
"  smorgasbord,"  that  is,  partaking  of  a  lunch  before 
sittinof  down  to  table.  At  the  entrance  to  the 
dining-room  in  every  hotel  and  on  board  every 
steamer,  is  a  side-table  furnished  with  bread, 
butter,  cheese,  sardines  and  other  fish  preserved 
in  oil,  and  several  kinds  of  cold  meat,  not  forgetting 
a  good  supply  of  "knackebrud,"  a  hard-baked,  thin 
and  brittle  sort  of  brown  bread,  made,  I  should 
think,  of  coarse  oatmeal,  etc.  At  this  table  every 
one  as  he  enters  the  dining-room  stops  and  takes 
not  merely  an  appetizing  bite,  but  what  I  should 
call  a  full  meal,  which  he  is  sure  not  to  forget  to 
moisten  with  a  glass  or  two  of  raw  brandy  or  other 
strong  liquor  also  found  upon  the  table,  after  which 
he  immediately  seats  himself  at  the  table  and  com- 
mences his  regular  meal.  I  could  understand  this 
habit  were  the  tables  in  Sweden  served  as  I  have 
often  found  them   in   other  countries,  where  the 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  32 1 

guests  are  kept  waiting  half  an  hour  for  their  soup 
and  twenty  minutesafter  every  scanty  course.  But 
the  Swedes  are  a  nation  of  good  Hvers,  and  they 
allow  themselves  an  abundant  and  nutritious  diet. 
The  Swedish  workman,  I  am  told,  indulges  in  five 
or  six  meals  a  day.  In  Norway  we  had  a  peculiar 
kind  of  cheese  which  looked  like  bar-soap,  being 
of  a  dark,  dingy  brown  color,  and  in  blocks  five 
or  six  inches  square;  this  was  made  of  goat's  milk. 

Of  course  one  could  hardly  think  of  coming  to 
Sweden  without  visiting  Upsala;  accordingly,  one 
pleasant  afternoon  we  took  the  cars  for  the  two 
hours'  journey  thence  by  rail,  in  order  to  begin 
with  the  morning's  freshness,  the  one  day  we 
allowed  ourselves  there,  Upsala  occupies  a  beauti- 
ful site  on  both  sides  of  the  little  stream  called  the 
Fyris,  and  is  just  hilly  and  elevated  enough  for 
agreeable  views.  On  arriving  at  our  hotel  I  had 
again  to  remark  the  character  of  cleanliness  every- 
where prevalent,  but  emphatically  so  in  the  glisten, 
ing  white  boards  of  the  bare  floor.  To  an  American 
who,  more  than  a  European,  is  accustomed  to 
ample  carpets,  the  first  impression  of  such  a  room 
is  certainly  one  of  bareness,  chilliness  and  insufifi- 
cient  comfort,  yet  I  cannot  express  the  air  and 
shine  of  purity  and  cleanliness  which  such  a  floor 
reflects  on  everything  around. 

The  delicately  served  breakfast  of  the  next 
morning  almost  repaid  for  the  disappointment  of 


32  2  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

being  kept  in  my  room  by  a  cold  until  the  sun  had 
warmed  the  clear,  fresh  morning  air;  its  neatness 
and  nicety  made  it  an  interlude  of  luxuriant 
elegance  between  the  rougher  episodes  of  the 
traveler's  ordinary  meals;  there  was  the  ever 
prominent  brilliant  floor  rivaling  in  whiteness  the 
exquisitely  fine  linen  damask  of  the  table,  the 
bright  polished  silver,  the  delicate  china,  and  the 
morning  sun  shining  through  the  snow-white 
muslin  drapery  of  the  window  upon  the  crystal 
pendants  of  chandelier  and  candelabra,  making 
the  room  gay  with  the  changing  colors  of  a  pris- 
matic dance.  And  yet  this  was  a  modest  little  inn 
in  a  plain,  quiet,  country-village-like  town,  where 
the  traveler  would  be  quite  ready  to  excuse  the 
want  of  everything  but  sufficiency  of  warmth  and 
food. 

Upsala  is  /«r  excellence  a  university  city, 
having  at  the  present  time  about  1500  students, 
making  one-eighth  of  its  population ;  its  customary 
studious  air  of  quiet  was  intensified  for  us  by  our 
visit  occurring  at  the  time  of  the  college  vacation; 
nothing  can  be  more  complete  than  the  profound, 
almost  sad,  silence  which  reigns  around  such  halls 
of  scholastic  fame,  and  pervadesstreets,  temporarily 
deserted  by  professors  and  students.  The 
University  of  Upsala  was  founded  400  years  ago, 
by  Stenon  Sture  the  Elder,  one  of  the  late  Kings 
by  election,  who  reigned  over  the  United  King- 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  323 

dom  of  Denmark,  Sweden  and  Norway.  This 
University,  like  Sweden's  other  University  at 
Lund,  has  four  departments,  viz :  theology,  law, 
medicine  and  philosophy.  In  past  years  it  has 
been  said  that  the  intellectual  character  of  Upsala 
offered  a  direct  contrast  to  that  of  Stockholm, 
whose  culture  leans  rather  to  French  literature 
and  science,  and  where  the  physical  sciences  have 
been  illustrated  by  the  great  name  of  Berzelius, 
while  Upsala  was  said  to  lean  toward  what  is 
called  German  mysticism,  and  to  have  rather  a 
poetic  and  speculative  tendency;  in  short,  that 
Upsala  was  the  center  of  Swedish  conservatism, 
Stockholm  of  vSwedish  radicalism. 

Throughout  the  Kingdom  education  is  obliga- 
tory, usually  extending  from  the  seventh  to  the 
fourteenth  year  ;  where  parents  refuse  to  comply 
with  this  law,  the  children  are  taken  from  them 
and  put  to  school,  the  parents  being  forced  to  pay 
their  board.  To  provide  for  the  education  of  all, 
there  is  a  peculiar  system  of  ambulatory  schools 
for  those  districts  where  the  population  is  sparse 
and  scattered. 

One  comes  to  Upsala  to  see  the  interesting, 
not  the  beautiful,  for  the  latter  fails,  unless  you 
include  the  rather  pleasing  scenery,  which,  how- 
ever, is  not  marked  or  striking  enough  to  be 
independent  of  the  season  and  the  weather  for  its 
charm.      Both  these  conditions  were  favorable  to 


324  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


3 


US,  and  consequently  Upsala  presented  us  with  a 
really  pretty  picture  of  itself,  which  I  am  sure  in 
less  perfect  weather,  and  at  a  less  beautiful  season, 
the  traveler  would  fail  to  receive. 

In  looking  over  our  rather  limited  programme 
for  the  day,  we  concluded  to  begin  with  the 
biggest  thing  first,  and  thought  that  by  taking 
hold  of  the  Cathedral,  we  should  have  our  hands 
full  for  about  an  hour  ;  but  we  reckoned  without 
our  host,  or  in  other  words,  without  the  clerk  of 
the  Cathedral.  As  a  general  thing,  in  visiting 
such  places,  when  obliged  to  accept  the  services 
of  a  guide,  we  are  suspiciously  followed  or 
impatiently  waited  for,  and  shuffled  off  as  hastily 
as  possible.  The  old  man  who  shows  this  Cathe- 
dral knows  it  all  by  heart  (as  they  all  do),  but  it  is 
rare  to  meet  one  who  so  loves  what  he  knows, 
and  really,  once  outside  the  walls  again,  we  found 
we  had  derived  quite  as  much  pleasure  from  his 
enthusiasm  as  from  the  orratification  of  our  own 
sight-hunting  curiosity;  may  a  long  life  be  his! 
for  so  long  as  he  can  enjoy  that  Cathedral,  so  long 
will  he  be  a  happy  man.  When  we  offered  him 
the  customary  fee,  he  actually  looked  as  if  he 
would  rather  like  to  pay  us  for  having  come. 

The  Cathedral  occupies  the  site  of  an  old 
heathen  temple,  and  ancient  tradition  speaks  of 
its  immense  size  and  enormous  wealth.  The 
building  was  commenced  six  hundred  years  ago. 


LETTERS    OP^    TRAVEL.  325 

but  was  not  finished  till  one  hundred  and  fifty  years 
later ;  it  bears  the  impress,  however,  of  many 
renovations. 

Although  truly  inspiring  in  size  and  unique  in 
character,  yet  not  for  the  sake  of  itself  do  we  visit 
the  Cathedral,  but  for  what  it  contains,  for  its 
broken  links  of  chains  which  hold  us  to  the  past 
of  historical  development  and  of  scientific  com- 
mencements. Behind  the  altar,  at  the  end  of  the 
church,  which  is  three  hundred  and  seventy  feet 
in  length,  is  a  chapel  called  the  Gustavian  Chapel, 
principally  sight-worthy  for  its  central  monument 
in  marble^  which  consists  of  a  catafalque  some 
six  or  eight  feet  high,  the  four  corners  surmounted 
by  high  obelisks.  On  this  catafalque  rest 
three  marble  statues  of  life-size,  representmg 
Gustavus  I.,  and  two  of  his  wives;  his  ashes 
with  those  of  his  three  wives,  moulder  in 
the  vault  directly  beneath.  The  walls  of  this 
chapel,  between  the  windows  of  painted  glass, 
are  covered  with  a  series  of  seven  frescoes 
painted  between  forty  and  fifty  years  ago,  and 
representing  important  events  in  the  life  of 
Gustavus.  Most  of  the  principal  characters  are 
of  life-size;  the  first  represents  him  asking  of  a 
Municipal  Council  aid  against  the  Danes;  in  the 
second,  he  is  in  the  diso;^uise  of  a  Dalecarlian 
peasant ;  in  the  third,  he  is  addressing  a  company 
of  peasants  ;  the  fourth  is  a  battle  scene  ;  the  fifth 


326  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

is  his  triumphal  entrance  into  Stockhohii  ;  in  the 
sixth  he  is  being  presented  with  the  first  Swedish 
translation  of  the  Bible  ;  the  seventh  represents 
him  with  his  sons  at  his  side,  seated  on  the  throne 
and  addressing  his  parliament. 

GustavLis  Vasa  freed  Sweden  from  the  power 
of  Denmark,  who,  in  the  union  of  the  three 
countries,  including  Norway,  had  sought  to 
maintain  an  oppressive  supremacy  ;  it  was  he  who 
established  in  Sweden  the  Lutheran  religion,  the 
present  religion  of  the  State,  and  which  Bernadotte, 
Marshall  of  France,  was  obliged  to  embrace  in 
order  to  acend  the  throne  of  Sweden.  Gustavus 
I.  was  proclaimed  King  in  the  year  1523,  and  he 
caused  his  descendants  to  be  declared  hereditary 
heirs  to  the  crown,  which,  a.  d.  18 18,  passed 
to  the  present  family,  through  Bernadotte, 
the  adopted  heir  of  Charles  XIII.,  the  last 
sovereign  of  the  Vasa  family.  Bernadotte 
ascended  the  throne  under  the  name  which  he 
took  of  Charles  John  or  Charles  XIV.,  of  Sweden. 

Leaving  the  Gustavian  Chapel,  the  visitor  is 
shown  the  treasures  of  the  Cathedral,  among 
which  is  an  ancient  image  of  the  heathen  God 
Thor.  There  are  also  several  golden  crowns 
belonging  to  past  Kings,  for  this  Cathedral  was 
long  the  coronation  place  of  Swedish  sovereigns. 
Here,  too  is  a  orolden  chalice  with  other  valuable 
things,  brought  from    Prague    during   the   thirty 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  327 

years'  war.  At  the  side  of  the  altar  is  a  silver 
casket  or  shrine  plated  with  gold,  some  three  or 
four  feet  lonor,  which  is  said  to  contain  the  bones 
of  St.  Eric,  the  patron  saint  of  Stockholm,  who 
died  in  the  year  1160.  It  was  he  who  put  an 
end  to  the  continual  wars  which  had  raged 
between  the  worshipers  of  Odin  and  the  Christians, 
from  the  time  of  the  first  introduction  of  Christian- 
ity into  Sweden,  about  the  year  looo.  There  are 
many  tombs  and  mural  monuments,  some  of  which 
are  500  years  old,  but  no  one  will  forget  to  look 
for  the  name  o(  Linnaeus,  who  lies  buried  here  ; 
a  tablet  in  the  form  of  an  obelisk  projecting  from 
a  side-wall  near  the  end  opposite  the  altar,  bears 
the  name  and  medallion  portrait  of  Linnaeus;  a 
photographer  was  taking  a  picture  of  it  during 
our  visit. 

Our  next  walk  was  to  the  house  and  grounds 
of  the  former  home  of  the  great  botanist.  There 
is  to-day  but  little  left  to  connect  his  memory 
with  the  spot.  The  house  is  a  sort  of  club-house 
for  students;  the  garden,  by  no  means  an  extensive 
one,  is  no  longer  worthy  the  name  ;  in  fact  it  is 
overgrown  with  grass,  and  used  as  a  sort  of  beer- 
garden  ;  there  remain  a  goodly  number  of  trees 
— poplars,  lindens,  and  acacias — many  of  which 
were  planted  by  the  hand  which  has  made  the 
spot  memorable  and  worthy  of  a  visit  from  every 
one  whose  heart  has  ever  gladdened  at  the  sight 


328  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

of  a  flower ;  of  course  there  is  not  a  vestige  of 
his  floral  clock.  The  house  is  an  inferior  little 
wooden  structure  at  the  corner  of  the  garden,  and 
with  two  sides  directly  on  a  line  with  the  dusty 
walk.  In  another  part  of  the  town  is  a  botanical 
garden,  containing  a  rich  collection  of  plants  from 
all  parts  of  the  world,  and  in  the  hall  connected 
with  it  is  a  bust  of  Linnaeus. 

Upsala,  September,  1875. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  329 


XXXIII. 

ST.  PETERSBURG— MAGNIFICENT  VIEW  OF  THE  CITY 
FROM  THE  NEVA— BEAUTY  OF  ARCHITECTURE- 
BRILLIANCY  OF  COLORING. 

UR  terrible  niorht  on  the  tossing:  waves  of 
the  Gulf  of  Finland,  with  its  wild,  fierce 
storm,  was  enough  of  itself  to  turn  our 
heads,  but  when  early  morning  brought  us  to 
anchor  alongside  the  renowned  stone  quays  of 
the  Neva,  and  we  looked  upon  the  glorious  city 
before  us,  we  might,  indeed,  well  have  doubted 
if  the  sight  were  not  an  illusive  play  of  our  fancy. 
I  would  fain  give  you  an  idea  of  the  impression 
made  by  this  view  of  St.  Petersburg,  but  better 
than  words  would  it  be  could  you  convert  these 
lines  into  leaf  of  gold,  and  with  it  cover  the  space 
occupied  by  my  description;  yet,  even  then,  there 
would  be  wanting  the  beauty  of  the  iris-like  play 
of  varied  color  relieving  the  golden  splendor  in 
which  the  city  is  roofed.  The  first  surprise  were 
groups  of  brightly- burnished,  gilded  domes,  so 
brilliant  that  I  immediately  thought  of  St.  John's 
vision  of  that  city,  which  shall  need  the  light 
neither  of  the  sun  nor  of  the  moon,  for  the  glory 

21 


330  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

of  God  shall  illuminate  it ;  and  this  comparison 
becomes  more  apt  when  you  know  that  these 
thickly-set  domes  mark  the  site  of  the  multitude 
of  churches,  which  makes  of  St.  Petersburg  a 
colossal  religious  temple ;  nor,  at  first,  does  a 
nearer  acquaintance  diminish  this  impression — 
that  religion  is  one  of  the  strongest  characteristics 
of  this  capital  of  the  world's  great  empire  ;  for  the 
number  and  magnificence  beyond  conception  of 
its  many  churches,  and  the  devoutness  of  the 
people,  are  things  to  be  marveled  at  but  never 
described. 

In  throwing  a  general  glance  over  the  entire 
city,  there  is  not  spread  out  over  it,  as  elsewhere, 
that  homely  prospect  of  black  roofs  or  still  uglier 
brown  tiles ;  but,  instead,  relieving  the  lavish 
gold,  the  city  is  decked  in  that  soft  yellow,  so 
frequent  a  color  in  Italy,  and  which,  though 
golden  as  sunlight,  is  yet  soft  as  moonlight, 
mingled  with  plentiful  patches  of  delicate  blue 
and  delicate  green. 

Driving  from  boat  to  hotel  and  coming  upon  a 
bridge,  we  saw  a  most  elaborate  open  shrine,  on 
whose  wall,  behind  its  little  altar,  was  a  life-size 
picture  of  some  saint,  apparently  in  brilliant 
mosaic;  the  roof  and  sides  of  the  shrine  or  minia- 
ture temple,  were  of  corresponding  beauty. 
Turning  our  eyes  from  this  to  the  river  view, 
they  were  riveted,  as  it  were,  on  the  scene,  until 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  33  I 

we  were  borne  beyond  it.  There,  for  miles  along 
the  broad,  open  waters  of  the  Neva,  are  its  splen- 
did embankments  of  hewn  stone,  the  red  granite 
of  Finland.  Upon  these  quays  are  broad  carriage 
drives,  along  whose  side  arise  far-stretching  lines 
of  palaces,  vying  with  each  other  in  beauty,  and 
making  the  banks  of  the  majestic  Neva  the 
victorious  rival  in  architecture  of  every  river  in 
Europe,  Every  particle  of  sand  that  helps  build 
up  the  shores  of  the  Thames,  as  it  laves  the  feet 
of  that  grand  old  giant  of  cities,  London,  may 
have  its  story  and  may  contribute  its  historical 
weight;  the  Seine  may  borrow,  sometimes  beauty, 
but  oftener  interest,  from  beautiful  Paris,  of  whom 
its  murmuring  waters  have  sung  for  centuries,  but 
as  a  point  of  beauty  neither  can  offer  themselves  as 
rivals  to  the  Neva — a  river  more  beautiful  in  itself, 
with  its  breadth  and  clearness  of  waters,  than  the 
Thames  or  the  Seine,  and  flowing  as  it  does 
between  lines  of  palaces  and  magnificent  buildings, 
which  have  only  been  stayed  in  their  ambitious 
grandeur  by  the  impossible. 

Coming  to  Russia,  the  traveler  finds  his  pass- 
port and  a  well  filled  purse  equally  necessary. 
Before  landing  he  must  show  the  former,  viseed 
by  the  Russian  minister  resident  in  whatever 
country  he  last  comes  from  ;  on  arriving  at  the 
hotel,  it  must  be  shown  to  the  landlord,  who  gives 
permission  to  retain  it  probably  for  one  day,  in 


332  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

order  to  afford  opportunity  to  visit  certain 
building's  to  which  a  passport  is  the  only  card  of 
admission  ;  it  must  then  be  given  to  the  local 
authorities,  from  whom  it  is  again  received  in  a 
few  davs,  the  landlord  sometimes  holding  it  back 
when  returned,  in  order  to  delay  your  departure 
from  his  hotel.  On  it  is  written  permission,  if 
you  have  requested  it,  to  travel  further  in  Russia, 
for  any  period  less  than  six  months  ;  also,  if  you 
have  requested  it,  permission  from  the  Govern- 
ment, to  re-cross  the  Russian  borders  unmolested, 
within  some  short,  stated  period. 

We  found  ourselves  in  a  hotel  on  what  is  called 
the  Nevskoi  Prospekt.  The  centre  of  all  that  is 
lively  in  St.  Petersburg,  and  the  fashionable 
afternoon  drive  at  this  season  of  the  year,  it 
corresponds  to  the  grand  boulevards  of  Paris  and 
to  the  Regent  Street  of  London,  and  extends  in  a 
straight  line  for  nearly  three  English  miles.  Of 
its  magnificence  and  character  we  may  get  a 
general  idea  by  glancing  along  its  length,  where 
we  count,  besides  bazaars  and  elegant  shops  with- 
out number,  several  palaces,  one  or  two  theatres, 
the  Imperial  Public  Library,  the  Greek  Church, 
the  Lutheran  Church  of  St.  Peter,  the  American 
Church,  the  Dutch  Church,  built  at  a  cost  of  half 
a  million  of  dollars,  the  Roman  Catholic  Church 
of  St.  Catherine,  which  contains  the  tomb  of 
Stanislaus     Poniatowski,     King    of    Poland,    the 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  333 

military  escort  at  whose  funeral  was  led  in  person 
by  the  Emperor  Paul  of  Russia ;  the  Church  of 
Kasan,  of  which  the  building  alone  cost  two 
millions  of  dollars,  and  which,  in  addition  to  other 
wealth  of  like  treasure,  counts  a  miraculous  image 
of  the  Virgin,  covered  with  gold  and  jewels  to  the 
value  of  eighty  thousand  dollars  ;  at  the  end  of 
the  line  of  view,  the  eye  falls  upon  the  Cathedral 
of  St.  Isaac,  on  which  twenty  millions  of  dollars 
have  been  spent. 

The  novel  picture  of  gaiety  and  life  which  the 
Prospekt  presents  constantly  allures  the  traveler 
to  his  windows,  which  he  finds  are  double,  while 
the  walls  of  the  house  are,  on  account  of  the  severe 
climate,  necessarily  so  thick  that  the  window-sill 
furnishes  a  wide  and  spacious  seat,  which  is  not 
left  unprovided  with  warm  and  comfortable 
cushions.  Our  windows  looked  upon  a  public 
square  called  the  Alexandra,  the  other  three  sides 
of  which  were  bounded  respectively  by  the  Impe- 
rial Public  Library,  the  Theatre  Alexandra,  and 
the  Palace  Anitchkoff.  The  facade  of  the  library, 
towards  the  Square,  but  not  its  principal  front,  is 
ornamented  with  eighteen  columns,  between  which 
are  ten  large  statues  of  Grecian  philosophers;  the 
second  side  is  the  Theatre,  which  presents  a 
beautiful  front  of  columns  and  statues;  the  third 
side  is  the  crarden  to  the  Palace.  In  the  centre 
of  the  square  is  a  colossal  statue  of  Catherine  the 


334  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

Great,  whose  magnificent  proportions  make  it 
rival  the  surrounding-  buildings  in  height;  it  con- 
sists of  a  circular  pedestal  crowned  by  a  statue  of 
the  Empress,  at  her  feet  a  circle  of  figures,  colossal 

also,  representing  her  principal statesmen  or 

lovers  ? 

The  driving  in  this  city  of  wonders  is  remark- 
able. In  the  first  place  there  are  the  drojkies, 
which  are  mere  single  seats  without  back  or  arms, 
so  small  that  it  is  next  to  impossible  for  two  per- 
sons to  seat  themselves  thereon,  and  two  strangers 
thusseated  canal  ways  be  recognized  by  each  having 
his  arms  clasped  around  the  other,  there  being 
nothing  else  to  hold  to;  the  driver  has  a  similar 
seat  a  little  higher  and  in  front.  His  passengers 
seated,  the  driver  starts  ;  he  is  none  of  your  lazy 
fellows,  and  having  learned  that  St.  Petersburg 
is  a  city  of  magnificent  distances,  his  horse  starts, 
and  keeps  on,  at  a  good  run,  and  could  one  but  hold 
on  to  the  drojky  with  his  feet  as  tightly  as  he 
holds  to  his  companion  with  his  arms,  one  would 
feel  tolerably  secure  of  not  falling  from  his  seat. 
He  finds  the  Nevskoi  Prospekt  crowded  with 
vehicles,  the  greater  number  of  them  drojkies,  all 
running  as  fast  as  his  own  ;  now  he  puts  out  his 
hand  to  turn  away  a  running  horse's  head  within 
a  foot  of  his  own  face,  and  directly  his  other 
shoulder  wipes  the  foam  from  the  mouth  of  another 
passing  horse,  and  this  is  done  so  often  that  his 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  335 

outside  o^arment  soon  looks  like  a  winter  land- 
scape  ;  for  observation  he  has  no  time,  his  whole 
attention  being  occupied  in  wondering  at  the  skill 
with  which  imminent  collisions  are  dodged,  and 
when  at  last  he  becomes  used  to  it,  he  thinks  it 
the  most  fascinating  drivingf  in  the  world. 

Not  only  the  driving,  but  the  driver's  dress 
and  horses'  gear,  are  peculiar.  Fastened  to  the 
shafts  of  all  vehicles  drawn  by  a  single  horse,  is 
a  hoop  bent  from  one  shaft  to  the  other,  and 
rising  to  the  height  of  three  or  four  feet  above 
the  horse's  neck;  the  check  rein  is  fastened  to  the 
top  of  this  hoop.  For  drays  this  hoop  is  larger 
and  heavier,  often  three  inches  thick,  five  inches 
wide,  and  painted  in  bright  colors,  as  a  wreath  of 
red  roses  on  a  ground  of  grass-green.  In  all  teams 
where  three  or  more  horses  are  used  they  are  all 
harnessed  abreast.  The  private  teams  are  of 
extreme  elegance.  While  in  France  there  is  a 
majority  of  white  horses,  in  St.  Petersburg  the 
greater  number  of  fine  horses  are  black,  and 
the  private  carriages  are  very  elegant.  The 
drojky  drivers  are  in  uniform,  wearing  a  blue 
double-breasted,  wadded  gown,  which  reaches  to 
the  feet ;  under  this  is  a  sheep-skin  skirt,  and  on 
the  head  a  hat-shaped  covering,  with  broad, 
spreading  crown,  but  nearly  as  low  as  a  cap. 

Twice  in  the  early  part  of    the  day,   I   saw   a 
passing  funeral.      In  the  first,  instead  of  a  hearse. 


336  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

was  a  broad  platform,  covered  with  a  black  pall 
bordered    with    silver    lace,    with    a    few    words 
wrought  in  the  same  material  inside  the  border  ; 
it  was  drawn  by  four  horses  whose  heads,    ears 
and  whole  bodies  were   covered  with  housings  of 
black  cloth,  which  reached  the   ground.      In  the 
second  funeral,  the  coffin,  also  on  a  platform,  was 
upholstered  in  cloth  of  silver,  and  trimmed  with 
many  rows  of  silver  fringe,  and  with  silver  handles; 
over  this   and   folded  back   sufficiendy  to  reveal 
half  the  coffin,  was  thrown  a  pall  falling  half-way 
to   the  ground  ;  this  pall    was   of  heavy   cloth  of 
gold,   embroidered  with  bright    flowers,    forming 
immense  bouquets.     1 1  was  a  strange  sight,  and  one 
in  keeping  with  all   in  this  city,   sitting  here    in 
regal  splendor.  Queen  of  the  North,  and  knowinof 
so   artfully    to  conceal    her    dreary    latitude    and 
natural  barrenness  under  lines  of  beauty,  forms  of 
grace,  bounty  of  color,  and  richness  of  material  to 
which  the  vari-colored  marbles  of  her  own  Siberia 
bring  so  large  a  contribution. 

St.  Petersburg,  Russl\,  October,  1875. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  337 


XXXIV. 

ST.  PETERSBURG-THE  TOMB  OP^  THE  GRAND  DUKE 
ALEXANDER  NEVSKY— STATUE  OF  PETER  THE  GREAT 
—MAGNIFICENT  CHURCHES— SURPASSING  SPLEN- 
DOR OF  THE  CATHEDRAL  OF  ST.  ISAAC. 

^AZED  and  dazzled  as  my  own  vision  is 
by  the  reflected  rays  from  roofs  of 
polished  gold,  by  the  sheen  of  silver,  the 
clear  light  through  masses  of  crystal,  and  the 
glitter  of  precious  jewels,  I  surely  may  be 
pardoned  for  still  wondering  if  St.  John  himself 
did  not  get  a  little  confused  in  his  vision  of  the 
coming  city,  and  mix  in  something  of  the  new 
city  of  Peter,  that  was  to  be,  with  the  New 
Jerusalem  and  its  streets  of  gold,  walls  of  precious 
stones,  and  gates  of  jewels. 

Limiting  my  description  of  the  richness  of  the 
Churches  of  St.  Petersburg  to  one  letter,  do  not 
suppose  that  I  therein  exhaust  the  subject;  on  the 
contrary,  I  but  give  a  hint  for  the  guidance  of 
the  imagination  in  the  filling  out  of  the  whole 
picture. 


^^8  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


00 


Let  US  first  take  a  glance  into  the  monastery  of 
St.  Alexander  Nevsky.  The  whole  property  is 
enclosed  by  a  stone  wall,  within  which  are  fine 
and  well-kept  grounds,  spacious  lawns,  and  long 
avenues  of  trees  carefully  trimmed,  so  that  those 
of  each  avenue  are  always  uniform  in  size.  No 
less  than  six  churches  are  within  the  enclosure, 
where  are  also  separate  buildings  for  the  residence 
of  the  monks,  for  the  ecclesiastical  academy,  for 
the  seminary,  the  preparatory  school,  etc.  In 
one  of  these  six  churches  are  the  tombs  of  the 
sister,  sister-in-law,  and  one  son  of  Peter  the 
Great,  as  well  as  other  royal  sepulchres  ;  to 
another  of  the  six  churches  there  is  yearly  a 
solemn  procession  from  the  Church  of  Kasan, 
several  miles  distant,  and  during  several  reigns 
it  was  the  custom  for  the  Empress  of  Russia  to 
accompany,  on  foot,  the  procession,  the  whole 
distance. 

But  the  principal  church  within  the  monastery 
grounds  is  called  the  Cathedral  of  the  Trinity, 
and  is  remarkable  for  containino^  the  tomb  of  the 
Grand  Duke  Alexander  Nevsky,  who  is  said  to 
have  been  the  hero  of  a  remarkable  victory  gained 
over  the  Danes,  Livonians  and  Swedes  in  the 
year  1241.  In  1724,  Peter  the  Great  had  his 
bones  transferred  to  the  church  he  had  built  to 
receive  them.  They  were  brought  here  part  of 
the  way  by  land,  then   transferred  to  a  boat  built 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  339 

for  the  purpose,  and  in  this  the  great  Emperor 
stationed  himself  at  the  helm,  while  the  eight 
highest  officers  of  his  empire  took  the  oars  and 
rowed.  At  the  landing  the  funeral  cortege  was 
received  by  the  royal  family  and  all  the  great  of 
the  land,  and  the  holy  relics  were  deposited  in 
their  mausoleum  amid  reverberating  peals  of 
cannon.  The  space  allotted  to  this  sacred  deposit 
is  at  the  right  of  the  altar.  Of  the  church  itself, 
I  will  only  say  that  all  is  in  rich  harmony  with  the 
sainted  warrior's  sepulchral  paraphernalia.  The 
tomb  itself  is  a  catafalque  with  canopy  above,  and 
is  all  of  silver,  of  which  metal  three  thousand 
two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  were  used  for  the 
casket  and  canopy  alone. 

The  silver  canopy  above  the  catafalque  is 
supported  by  silver  angels,  equal  in  size  to  full- 
grown  men;  they  hold  silver  trumpets  garlanded 
with  flowers  of  silver.  Partly  covering  the  casket 
is  a  veil  of  satin  and  rich  lace,  on  which  is 
embroidered  in  diamonds  and  pearls  the  face  and 
name  of  the  hero.  This  was  the  gift  of  the 
Empress  Catherine  the  Great.  On  fete  days,  a 
gold  lamp  with  a  pendent  tassel  of  diamonds  and 
pearls  is  suspended  from  the  canopy.  Against 
the  wall  is  a  tent  of  silver,  while  around  are 
ranged  suits  of  arms,  and  other  warlike  accouter- 
ments,  and  all  these,  too,  as  well  as  the  inter- 
spersed candelabra,  are  of  silver,  of  which  three 


340  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

thousand  six  hundred  pounds  have  been  used 
in  their  manufacture.  Yet,  this  bounteous  display  • 
of  precious  metal  does  not  exceed  in  amount 
that  employed  in  the  embellishment  of  many 
churches  here,  as  for  instance  that  of  Our  Lady 
of  Kasan,  where  the  whole  ikonostas  is  of  silver 
while  in  its  center  sparkles  the  name  of  the 
Almighty,  written  wholly  in  precious  jewels  ; 
before  the  ikonostas  stand  four  immense  candelabra 
of  silver,  and  the  steps  leading  to  it  are  of 
polished  jasper. 

All  Greek  churches  are  built  in  the  form 
of  a  cross,  the  eastern  arm  of  which  is 
separated  from  the  rest  of  the  edifice  by  a  very 
hi^rh  screen  which  is  called  the  ikonostas.  The 
space  behind  it  is  set  apart  for  the  priests  and 
into  it  no  woman,  not  even  the  wife  of  the 
Emperor,  may  enter.  The  ikonostas  conceals  a 
throne-like  altar,  under  which,  and  extending 
towards  the  screen,  is  a  sacred  carpet  on  which, 
although  for  some  special  ceremonies  it  is  some- 
times carried  to  the  centre  of  the  church,  no  foot 
but  that  of  a  priest  may  ever  step.  During 
service  the  folding  doors  of  the  ikonostas  are  at 
intervals  open,  and  at  intervals  closed.  In  the 
Church  of  Our  Lady  of  Kasan,  the  balustrades 
of  the  ikonostas,  the  doors,  the  arches  rising 
twenty  feet  above  the  altar,  the  door-frames,  the 
picture-frames — all  is  of  the  finest  silver,  whose 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  34 I 

surface  reflects,  in  dazzling  brilliancy,  the  light  of 
a  thousand  tapers  burning  before  it. 

But  perhaps  no  building  in  the  world,  or  at  least 
none  west  of  India,  can,  for  its  size,  compare  in  cost 
with  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Isaac.  In  the  first  place, 
to  make  its  foundation,  a  forest  of  pines  had  to 
be  sunk  in  the  swampy  soil,  at  the  expense  of  a 
million  of  dollars.  Its  location  is  advantageous,  as 
it  occupies  a  wide,  open  space,  surrounded  by 
palaces  and  parks. 

From  one  portico  you  look  on  the  public  square, 
where  stands  the  famous  equestrian  statue  of  Peter 
the  Great,  representing  him  curbing  his  rearing 
steed  on  the  precipitous  edge  of  the  immense 
irregular  rock,  which  forms  its  pedestal.  Before 
him  rolls  the  majestic  Neva,  while  his  right  hand 
points  to  the  proud  city  he  created,  and  whose 
most  remarkable  buildings  rise  within  sight. 
The  Cathedral  overlooks  the  Palace  of  the 
Admiralty,  whose  front  is  five  hundred  feet  in 
length,  and  composed  of  columns,  statues,  and 
allegoric  groups  emblematic  of  Russia's  greatness. 
From  its  center  rises  a  very  hiQ-h  and  orraceful 
spire,  and  its  open  grounds  extend  from  the  Neva 
on  one  side,  to  the  grand  avenue  of  the  Nevskoi 
Prospekt,  on  the  other. 

The  Cathedral  of  St.  Isaac  is,  as  is  customary, 
in  the  form  of  a  Greek  cross,  but  differs  from 
many  of   the  buildings  here   in   the  comparative 


342  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


O 


somberness  of  its  exterior,  which  is  wholly  of  rich, 
dark  marble,  stone  and  bronze,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  its  five  cupolas  covered  with  copper  and 
plated  with  gold.      From  the  center  of  the  roof 
rises    a    rotunda    supported     by    thirty    immense 
pillars  of  polished  granite  and   surmounted  by  a 
cupola    crowned     by    a    beautiful    shining   cross, 
discernible  at  a  great  distance,  while  four  smaller 
cupolas    rise    from    the   four  angles  of  the    roof 
The  Cathedral  has  four  grand  portals  of  entrance, 
one  on  each    side.      The    broad     landing    under 
the  portico  and  the  steps  ascending  to  it  are  of 
polished     dark     red    granite;     the     wide,     deep 
porticoes   are  supported    by    columns    sixty    feet 
high    and    seven    feet  in  diameter,    each  column 
consisting    of    but    one    single    piece    of    stone 
with    base    and    capital    of    bronze;     two   of  the 
porticoes    have    each    sixteen    of   these  columns, 
each    of    the    other    two    have    eight;    wide    and 
high     folding-doors     open      directly     from     the 
porticoes    into    the  main    body    of  the    building; 
they  are  of  wrought  metal,  divided  into  panels, 
and  represent,   I   should    think,    the  whole  Bible 
history.     Outside,  half-way  up  the  rotunda  that 
supports  the  main  cupola,  is  a  circle  of  twenty- 
four  winged  angels,   and,  including    these,   there 
are    upwards    of    one    hundred     colossal     bronze 
figures;  but  magnificent  as  all  this  is  from  gilded 
dome  to  marble  base,  the  eye  is  chiefly  conscious 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  343 

of  grandeur  of  proportion  and  beauty  of  outline 
only.  Entering  the  interior  in  vain  the  eye 
searches  for  a  square  inch  of  surface,  mean  or 
unornamental;  rich  paintings,  rare  marble, 
precious  stones,  gold  and  silver — naught  else  to  be 
seen;  the  walls,  where  not  covered  with  frescoes, 
are  of  beautiful  marble  of  different  varieties. 

The  immense  dome  is  frescoed  above  with  a 
colossal  representation  of  the  Virgin.  At  her  side 
is  St.  John,  while  the  rest  of  the  space  is  filled  with 
the  patron  saints  of  the  imperial  family.  Below  is 
a  circle  of  twelve  windows,  between  which  are 
frescoes  representing  the  twelve  apostles;  still 
lower,  painted  on  canvas,  are  the  evangelists; 
and  still  again,  at  the  base  of  the  cupola,  four 
grand  pictures  representing  the  passion  of  Christ, 
the  kiss  of  Judas,  Ecce  Homo,  the  scourging  and 
the  carrying  of  the  cross. 

All  these  you  see  as  you  look  up  into  the  dome, 
but  there  are  many  others  frescoed  on  the  walls, 
on  canvas,  and  here  and  there  resting  on  gilded 
pedestals,  and  all  of  wonderful  beauty.  This  you 
will  believe  when  told  that  no  picture  or  statue  has 
been  allowed  admittance  here  without  having  first 
received  the  approval  of  the  Holy  Synod  of  Russia, 
and  afterwards  being  subjected  to  the  severest 
criticism  of  the  Academy  of  Arts,  in  order  that 
no  picture  which  is  not  a  masterpiece  might  find 
place  in  Russia's  grandest  temple  of  worship. 


344  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

There  are  some  two  hundred  statues  inside  the 
Cathedral,  and  these  have  cost  over  half  a  million 
of  dollars.  Some  are  in  mosaic,  others  are  of 
metal  plated  with  gold  while  the  hands  and  faces 
are  painted  on  a  flat  surface,  the  effect  of  this 
being  very  fine. 

The  ikonostas  occupies  the  whole  of  one  side 
of  the  church;  it  comprises  three  altars,  the  center 
and  principal  one  being  dedicated  to  St.  Isaac, 
that  at  the  right  to  St.  Catherine,  that  at  the 
left  to  St.  Alexander  Nevsky.  A  gilded  railing 
at  the  head  of  the  steps  leading  to  it  separates  the 
broad  platform  in  front  of  the  ikonostas  from  the 
main  floor.  This  platform  is  two  hundred  and 
twenty-six  feet  long  and  is  made  of  large  slabs  of 
polished  porphyry.  In  front  of  the  ikonostas  is  a 
remarkable  range  of  columns  extending  the  whole 
width  of  the  church.  They  are  ten  in  number, 
eight  being  of  malachite  and  the  two  central 
ones  of  lapis  lazuli.  The  malachite  columns 
are  thirty  feet  high  and  two  and  a  half  feet 
in  diameter.  The  columns  of  lapis  lazuli 
measure  fourteen  feet  in  height  by  two  feet 
in  diameter.  The  pedestals  of  these  ten  columns 
are  in  white  marble  with  o-ilded  moldincfs  and 
panels  of  the  same  material  as  the  columns. 

The  altars  and  the  chapels  which  contain  them 
are  principally  of  white  Carrara  marble,  but  this  is 
embedded  in,  and  overlaid  with  malachite,  lapis 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  345 

lazuli,  mosaic  paintings,  and  gilded  bronze;  and 
the  astonished  eye  looks  almost  with  incredulity 
upon  what  itself  sees,  and  instead  of  doubting  the 
cost  of  twenty  millions  of  dollars,  wonders  that 
twenty  millions  could  have  paid  for  it.  All  the 
articles  used  in  the  service  of  the  altar  are  in  solid 
gold  and  silver ;  for  one  set  of  these  over  eighty 
pounds  of  solid  gold  was  used,  and  the  handiwork 
alone  cost  nearly  fifteen  thousand  dollars  in 
addition.  There  is  also  a  spoon  made  from  an 
agate,  the  handle  being  of  diamonds.  There  are 
candelabra,  vessels  for  holy  water,  etc.,  twenty- 
six  articles  in  all,  whose  weight  in  pure  silver  is 
two  thousand  two  hundred  and  seventy-nine 
pounds,  and  on  which  the  labor  alone  has 
cost  one  hundred  thousand  dollars.  There  are 
also  two  other  sets  in  which  three  thousand  three 
hundred  and  seventy-seven  pounds  of  pure 
silveV  have  been  used,  and  on  which  the  labor  has 
cost  over  fifty  thousand  dollars.  On  the  main 
floor  of  the  building  is  a  tomb  of  Christ,  to  con- 
struct which  five  hundred  pounds  of  pure  silver 
was  used,  and  fifteen  thousand  dollars  paid  for  the 
labor. 

I  attended  divine  service  in  this  Cathedral  on 
a  Sunday.  The  place  was  crowded  to  its  utmost 
capacity  and  all  were  standing,  for  not  even  the 
Emperor  may  seat  himself  in  the   Holy  Temple. 

Here,  God's  Temple,  like  God's  religion,  is  free 
22 


346  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

to  all;  and  in  this  land  of  aristocrats,  the  mean, 
the  low  and  the  dirty  stand  side  by  side  and 
crowd  closely  against  the  rich  and  the  proud  as 
they  pray  and  worship  together.  At  several 
different  places,  before  certain  images,  was  a  cir- 
cular table  for  the  burning  of  little  cheap  tapers, 
which  could  hardly  have  cost  a  copek,  the  smallest 
Russian  coin — a  little  less  in  value  than  the 
American  cent.  Frequently  some  child  or  grown 
person  would  elbow  his  way  through  the  crowd 
and  offer  his  candle,  which  was  immediately 
lighted  if  there  was  room;  if  not,  it  was  laid  by  to 
be  burned  in  its  turn.  The  whole  congregation 
was  most  devout  and  attentive.  I  have  often 
heard  ot  muscular  Christianitv,  but  I  never  saw  it 
so  thoroughly  put  into  practice  and  worship  as 
by  a  rough,  dark-whiskered,  and  long-haired 
Russian  at  my  side;  he  had  a  little  more  space  in 
front  of  him  than  most  of  the  others  and  through 
the  whole  of  the  long  service  he  was  continually 
bending  his  head  down  to  his  knees,  and  vigor- 
ously crossing  himself,  repeating  now  and  then  a 
few  words.  As  I  looked  at  him,  and  observed 
also  the  general  air  of  devotion  all  around  me,  I 
began  to  think  that  perhaps  we  travelers  were 
the  only  wicked  people  in  Russia.  There  is  one 
wonderful  painted  window  in  this  Cathedral,  and 
at  a  certaim  part  of  the  service,  the  gilt-bronze 
doors     of    the     ikonostas,    twenty-three    feet     in 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  347 

height,  which  have  heretofore  remained  closed, 
are  rolled  back,  and,  as  they  open,  the  window 
suddenly  reveals  its  colossal  picture  of  Christ 
ascending  among  clouds,  one  hand  stretched  out 
as  in  benediction,  the  other  pointing  upward;  the 
effect  is  overwhelming. 

St.  Petersburg,  Russl\,  Octobe7^,  1875. 


-1 


48  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


XXXV. 

ST.  PETERSBURG— INTERIOR  OF  WINTER  PALACE. 

)N'E  of  the  sights  of  St.  Petersburg,  in  the 
absence  of  the  Imperial  family,  is  the 
Winter  Palace,  and  this  seen,  the  traveler 
begins  to  think  that  the  Churches  of  St.  Peters- 
burg have  not  exhausted  the  wealth  of  the 
Empire,  but  are  a  fitting  introduction  to  the 
magnificence  of  its  palaces.  The  Winter  Palace, 
with  its  front  seven  hundred  feet  long,  directly 
faces  the  grand  Neva  at  the  point  of  its  greatest 
width.  The  Neva,  before  emptying  into  the  Gulf 
of  Finland,  divides  into  several  branches,  and  is 
known  as  the  Great  Neva  and  the  Little  Neva. 
We  were  admitted  to  the  Palace  through  a  side 
entrance,  a  long  and  lofty  arch,  elaborate  with 
curious  sculpture  and  designs,  which  led  us  under  a 
semi-circular  wall,  into  an  immense  open  space 
lying  between  the  semi-circular  building  and  the 
Palace.  In  the  centre  of  this  open  space  rises  the 
remarkable  monument  erected  to  Alexander  I. 
This  is  of  red  granite,  and  its  shaft  is  a  monolith 
eighty-four  feet  in  height.      It  is  surmounted  by  an 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  349 

angel  and  a  cross,  and  the  whole,  from  base  to 
pinnacle,  measures  over  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
in  height.  It  is  guarded  night  and  day  by  grena- 
diers, who  have  distinguished  themselves  by  some 
military  exploit. 

Within  the  Palace  one  becomes  so  confused  by 
its  extent,  by  the  immense  number  of  its  rooms, 
and  by  the  brilliant  magnificence,  that  he  carries 
away  but  an  uncertain  picture  of  marble  halls, 
ceilings  covered  with  wondrous  paintings,  pillars 
of  precious  marbles  with  gilded  base  and  capital, 
walls  hung  with  the  richest  damasks,  all  making  a 
royal  and  fitting  abode  for  the  ruler  of  the  greatest 
empire  in  the  world. 

The  Imperial  Saloon,  also  called  the  Saloon  of 
Nicolas,  is  spacious  enough  to  contain  fifteen 
hundred  persons;  it  is  lighted  by  twelve  immense 
chandeliers  of  crystal,  which,  on  lete  occasions, 
blaze  with  five  thousand  candles  ;  at  both  ends 
are  bufiets  reaching  to  the  ceiling,  on  which  are 
ranged  gold  and  silver  plates,  some  as  much  as 
two  feet  in  diameter,  and  all  displaying  marvelous 
skill  of  workmanship.  In  this  hall  each  sovereign, 
after  his  coronation,  receives  deputations  from  his 
various  provinces,  who  come  to  express  their 
fealty,  as  an  emblem  whereof  each  presents  him 
with  a  piece  of  black  bread  and  a  pinch  of  salt, 
oftered  upon  these  rich,  gold,  and  silver  salvers, 
brought    by    them    and    left   here.     /Adjoining  is 


350  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

another  smaller  hall  ornamented  with  statues  ;  in 
this,  the  Emperor  at  Easter  receives  certain 
peasants,  from  near  and  far,  each  of  whom  has 
been  selected  by  the  peasants  of  certain  districts, 
and  sent  by  them  to  congratulate  their  ruler. 
Here  the  mighty  potentate  receives  them, 
embracing  and  kissing  each  one. 

In  the  Saloon  of  Peter,  the  most  remarkable  thing 
is  a  large  painting  behind  the  throne  ;  it  repre- 
sents the  dream  of  Peter  the  niofht  before  the 
battle  of  Pultowa.  Peter  is  sleeping,  and  the 
Angel  of  Victory  is  seen  descending  toward  him 
bearing  in  her  hand  a  wreath  and  crown.  The 
room  has  its  walls  covered  with  crimson  velvet, 
embroidered  in  gold  thread,  the  pattern  being  the 
Imperial  escutcheon  surrounded  by  a  wreath  of 
laurel.  Below  the  velvet  a  white  marble  dado 
extends  around  the  room.  At  the  side  of  the 
room  opposite  to  the  throne  are  two  tables  of 
solid  silver.  Around  the  room  stand  six  high 
silver  candelabra  ;  six  more  are  fastened  to  the 
walls,  and  chandeliers  of  silver  are  suspended  from 
the  ceiling. 

The  Saloon  of  Esculchias  has  its  ceiling 
supported  by  one  hundred  and  four  gilded  pillars; 
a  gilded  gallery  surrounds  it,  and  it  is  lighted  by 
twelve  gilded  chandeliers.  The  hall  of  St.  George 
has  similar  decorations  of  marble  and  gilding ;  the 
throne  is  gilded,  and  ten  immense  chandeliers  of 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  35 1 

crystal  light  this  banqueting-hall,  where  the 
Grand  Dukes  always  celebrate  their  coming  of 
age. 

The  Golden  Saloon  has  its  doors  and  all  its 
wood-work  gilded,  and  its  walls  and  ceilings  are 
heavily  ornamented  with  gold.  Over  the  mantel 
is  inserted  a  long  panel  of  mosaic  work,  represent- 
ing an  Italian  landscape.  This  panel  has  a  value 
of  thirty  thousand  dollars.  The  room  is  furnished 
with  crimson  draperies,  and  contains  mosaic 
tables,  vases  several  feet  high  of  malachite,  of 
jasper,  etc.;  a  beautiful  fire-screen  consisting  of 
one  large  plate  of  crimson  glass  standing  in  a  gilt 
bronze  frame;  marble  statues  and  candelabra  of 
lapis-lazuli,  and  much  other  elegant  furniture. 
This,  we  were  told,  was  the  saloon  of  the  late 
Empress,  mother  of  the  present  Emperor. 

The  malachite  hall  has  its  walls  ornamented 
with  sixteen  malachite  pillars  reaching  from  floor 
to  ceiling;  two  malachite  marble  mantel-pieces 
and  malachite  vases.  The  doors  and  trimmings 
of  the  room  are  gilded.  One  room  has  remark- 
able doors,  each  of  which,  we  are  told,  cost  four 
thousand  rubles,  equal  to  three  thousand  dollars. 
They  are  of  rosewood,  inlaid  with  the  wood  of 
the  palm  tree,  and  the  panels  are  ornamented 
with  paintings  on  porcelain ;  another  room  com- 
municates with  the  adjoining  apartments  by 
several  sets  of  folding-doors  covered  with  tortoise- 


352  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

shell  inlaid  with  a  fine  pattern  in  gold,  and  each 
pair  of  these  doors  cost  twelve  thousand  dollars. 
In  still  another  room  each  panel  of  the  doors 
bears  a  large  oval  medallion  of  imitation  cameo, 
made  at  the  manufactory  of  Sevres,  near  Paris. 
In  one  room  is  a  marble  mantel  with  panels  of 
mosaic,  bordered  with  lapis-lazuli  ;  another  has  a 
mantel  of  white  marble  and  lapis-lazuli.  A  very 
valuable  mosaic  table,  its  top  representing  eight 
separate  Italian  landscapes,  was,  we  were  told, 
the  giftof  Garibaldi  to  one  of  the  Grand  Duchesses. 
A  massive  silver  mantel-set,  of  clock  and  vases 
curiously  and  heavily  wrought,  together  with  the 
central  chandelier  in  the  room,  we  were  also  told, 
was  presented  by  the  City  of  London  to  the 
Emperor  of  Russia,  at  a  cost  of  three  hundred 
thousand  dollars. 

Hall  after  hall  and  gallery  after  gallery  is  filled 
with  paintings  of  historical  interest ;  the  Gallery 
of  the  F'ield  Marshals,  with  battle  scenes  and 
full-length,  life-size  portraits  of  great  Russian 
Generals  ;  elsewhere,  other  pictures  perpetuating 
the  memory  of  remarkable  and  momentous 
incidents  of  war.  The  Romanoff  Gallery  contains 
the  portraits  of  all  the  sovereigns  of  the  present 
ruling  dynasty,  and  also  those  of  their  wives  ; 
many  of  the  sovereigns  are  represented  by 
several  pictures  taken  at  different  periods  of  their 
lives.       So    we    wander   on    throut^h    an    almost 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  353 

endless  range  of  imperial  halls  and  all  the  items 
we  can  carry  away  in  our  memory  seem  but  a  few 
scattered  crumbs  from  an  overflowing  banquet, 
better  fitted  for  the  pleasure  and  amusement  of  a 
month  than  of  a  day. 

But  we  have  yet  to  take  a  peep  into  the  private 
apartments  of  the  Imperial  family,  which  if  not 
equal  to  the  state  apartments,  are  nevertheless 
extremely  rich,  and  many  of  them  have  their 
walls  covered  with  heavy  damasked  silk  in  various 
colors.  In  the  general  sitting-room  of  the 
Empress  and  her  ladies,  of  whom  I  judge  from 
the  number  of  chairs  and  tables  she  has  enough, 
Her  Majesty's  seat  is  on  a  raised  platform  sepa- 
rated by  a  railing  from  the  rest  of  the  room  ;  the 
walls  are  of  crimson  satin,  and  there  are  a  number 
of  beautiful  pictures;  but  the  chief  thing  I  noticed 
here  were  tall  folding  screens  of  exquisite  work- 
manship, illustrating,  in  colored  glass,  miniature 
scenes  of  royal  story.  The  walls  of  the  sleeping- 
rooms  of  the  now  Duchess  of  Edinburgh  were, 
like  the  drapery  and  furniture,  of  pearl-colored 
brocaded  silk  ;  from  this  room  we  passed  into  her 
boudoir,  with  walls  and  furniture  of  white  silk 
wrought  with  bouquets  of  bright  flowers  ;  both 
rooms  had  arched  ceilings  frescoed  in  delicate 
but  cheerful  colors.  Beyond  was  the  bath-room 
belonging  to  this  suite  of  apartments  ;  it  was 
solely  lighted  by  mosaic  windows  of  rich-colored 


354  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

glass.  Between  the  windows  was  a  marble 
mantel  of  exceeding  beauty  and  workmanship, 
and  before  the  grate  a  fire-screen  of  crimson 
glass  in  gilt  frame  and  very  heavy.  On  the 
opposite  side  of  the  room  was  the  marble  bath-tub 
partly  sunk  in  the  floor.  Behind  the  bath  the 
wall  was  one  wide,  hia"h  mirror;  the  ceilinofoverhead 
was  an  arched  dome,  not,  however,  with  smooth 
carved  surface,  but  hanging  in  scalloped  stalactites 
of  stucco.  These  stalactites  were  of  various 
delicate  colors,  their  edges  shining  with  a  slight 
line  of  orildinof.  The  side  walls  of  the  room  were 
covered  to  correspond  with  the  ceiling  overhead, 
and  the  thick,  soft  carpet  harmonized  with  roof 
and  ceiling.  There  was  but  little  furniture,  save 
a  table,  sofa,  and  a  couple  of  chairs  in  a  small 
alcove.  These  were  white  and  covered  with 
pale  blue  silk.  I  could  not  help  wondering  if  the 
fair  young  girl  for  whom  all  this  had  been 
arranged  might  not  sometimes,  in  her  far-away 
English  home,  be  homesick  for  familiar  sur- 
roundings. 

The  last  room  visited  was  in  the  upper  story, 
and  contained  the  Imperial  jewels,  a  wonderful, 
rare,  and  extensive  collection;  they  were  guarded 
by  two  armed  soldiers,  and  two  keepers.  They 
are  arranged  in  show  cases  on  tables  extending 
half-way  around  the  room.  In  the  first  compart- 
ment were  mostly  diamonds,  among  which  was  a 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  355 

diamond  necklace,  whose  value  we  were  told  is  so 
great  that  I  actually  dislike  to  repeat  it,  and  will 
only  say  that  it  was  several  millions  of  dollars. 
It  is  a  circlet  of  twenty-two  large  diamonds,  with 
fifteen  pendants,  each  a  rare  jewel.  Here  are 
also  jewels  arranged  in  the  form  of  trimmings, 
ready  to  be  applied  to  dresses,  shoes,  head-dresses, 
etc.  In  the  second  case  was  a  large  collection  of 
black  diamonds  to  be  worn  as  court  mourning, 
emeralds,  pearls,  diamonds,  and  an  assortment  of 
fans  to  match  whatever  jewels  might  be  selected 
for  wear.  In  the  third  compartment  the 
collection  was  more  mixed,  consisting  of  almost 
every  jewel  known,  sapphires,  rubies,  garnets, 
opals,  etc.,  but  few  diamonds.  In  the  centre  of 
the  room  stand  two  glass  cases,  one  containing 
the  Emperor's  crown,  scepter,  and  the  globe  he 
holds  in  his  hand,  the  other  containing  the  crown 
of  the  Empress.  The  scepter  is  surmounted  by 
the  largest  diamond  in  Europe,  and  one  of  the 
most  beautiful.  It  weighs  over  eight  carats  more 
than  the  English  Kohinoor  weighed  before  it  was 
cut,  but  its  color  is  less  pure.  It  is  known  in 
England  as  the  Effingham  diamond,  and  here  as 
the  Orloff  diamond,  from  its  having  been  presented 
to  the  Empress  Catharine  the  Great  by  the 
famous  Count  Orloff;  its  owner  had  previously 
offered  it  for  sale  to  the  Empress  who  would  not 
consent  to  his  terms.     The  history  of  the  diamond 


356  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

has  been  remarkable,  but  is  not  accurately  known. 
It  was,  most  probably,  the  eye  of  an  idol  of 
Seringham  in  East  India  (Seringham  having 
become  Effingham),  and  was  stolen  from  the 
temple-  The  keeper  told  us  it  was  first  smuggled 
into  Russia  by  its  owner,  who  made  an  incision 
in  his  leg  sufficiently  deep  to  slip  it  within  and 
thus  conceal  it.  The  globe  held  in  the  hand 
of  the  Emperor  at  his  coronation  is  of  gold 
surmounted  by  a  large  sapphire  and  a  diamond. 
The  crown  is  mitre-shaped,  around  the  head  is 
a  bandeau  of  twenty-eight  large  diamonds ;  the 
partings  consist  of  arcs  composed  of  rows  of 
diamonds  and  pearls,  between  which  are  leaves  of 
silver  filigree,  the  whole  surmounted  by  a  cross  of 
five  large  diamonds  resting  upon  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  rubies  in  the  world.  This  ruby 
is  polished  but  of  irregular  shape,  never  having 
being  cut.  The  crown  of  the  Empress  is  of 
diamonds  and  pearls.  It  is  said  that  no  other 
ornament  in  the  world  presents  such  a  collection 
of  diamonds  of  color  so  pure  and  so  free  from 
flaw,  while  the  pearls  are  equally  choice  and  rare. 

St.  Petersburg,  Russia,  October,  1875. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  357 


XXXVI. 

ST.  PETERSBURG— DEVOUTNESS  OF  THE  PEOPLE— TEA 
DRINKING  AND  SMOKING-IMPERIAL  MUSEUM  OF  THE 
GREAT  CATHERINE— FORTRESS  OF  ST.  PETER  AND 
ST.  PAUL— ROYAL  TOMBS. 

)NE  of  the  strongest  impressions  made 
upon  the  visitor  to  St.  Petersburg  arises 
from  the  rehgious  habits  of  the  people, 
and  of  these  habits  one  single  day  in  its  streets 
will  give  a  better  idea  than  much  reading. 
Besides  the  shrines  at  frequent  intervals  by  the 
wayside,  each  church  is  also  a  shrine,  and  even 
the  busiest  driver  or  teamster  seldom  forgets  to 
uncover  his  head  and  cross  himself  at  every  church 
he  passes,  and  before  which  he  is  sure  to  see 
brother-believers  kneelino"  on  the  g^round  in 
worship  ;  while  the  larger  number  of  foot  passen- 
gers pay  the  same  reverent  recognition  to  the 
other  shrines,  frequently  stopping  and  either 
prostrating  themselves  on  the  ground  before  the 
shrine  or  slowly  three  times  bowing  the  body 
nearly  to  the  ground,  three  times  crossing  them- 
selves and  repeating  a  prayer,  then  proceeding  on 


358  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL, 

their  way,  only  again  at  every  succeeding  shrine 
to  at  least  uncover  their  heads  and  make  the 
si2fn  of  the  cross. 

The  Summer  Garden,  like  some  other  of  the 
public  parks,  at  its  principal  entrance  has  its 
shrine,  too,  with  a  life-size,  complete  figure  of  its 
saint  in  brilliant  mosaic  on  golden  background  ; 
and  at  every  railway  station  the  waiting-room  has 
its  rich  shrine  with  lighted  candles  and  swmging 
lamp,  only  a  slight  railing  separating  from  the 
surrounding  turmoil  a  little  space  for  the  prayerful 
devotee  who  does  not,  like  some  foreign  travelers, 
forget  in  his  journeying  to  take  his  religion  along 
with  him. 

One  result  of  railroad  communication  and  much 
travel  is  the  gradual  blotting  out  of  national 
costumes,  and  here  the  middle  and  upper  classes 
are  dressed  in  the  prevailing  European  styles  of 
the  day  ;  yet  in  the  streets  I  see  carriages  rolling 
along  whose  occupants  wear  bright  colored  tur- 
bans and  long  wadded  robes  of  flowered  silk, 
while  the  gay-colored  dress  of  peasant-looking 
people  lights  up  the  streets  with  picturesque 
effect.  I  look  from  my  window  on  a  group  all 
equally  gaily  dressed,  one  of  whom  wears  a 
white  skirt  trimmed  with  red  bands,  a  scarlet 
apron,  bright  blue  sack,  and  orange-colored  ker- 
chief on  her  head.  At  my  side  in  St.  Isaac's 
Church  during  the  Sunday  service,  stood  a  woman 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  359 

with  dress  and  small  round  cape  of  light  blue 
merino  trimmed  with  silver  lace,  a  hat  of  the 
same  material  thickly  dotted  with  silver  spangles, 
and  apron  of  white  muslin  ;  and  in  the  street  I 
saw  another  dress  of  exactly  the  same  material 
and  fashion,  but  the  color  was  bright  scarlet  and 
the  trimming  of  gold  lace  and  gold  spangles. 

The  market  of  St.  Petersburg  is  one  of  the 
most  luxurious  in  the  world,  a  fact  one  wonders 
at  on  reflecting  that  all  edibles  must  be  brought 
from  immense  distances,  arriving  here  from  almost 
every  point  of  the  compass,  by  sledge,  by  rail, 
by  water,  and  by  caravan,  bringing  fish  from  the 
far  northern  seas,  Mediterranean  fruits  and  camel- 
loads  of  Asia's  teas.  Perhaps  it  is  because  it 
were  useless  to  bring  so  far  anything  but  the 
best,  that  nothing  but  the  best  is  seen  here.  It 
would  seem,  too,  from  the  prices  demanded,  that 
the  Petersburger  is  not  a  stranger  to  that  spirit  of 
lavish  extravaofance  which  characterized  California 
in  her  earliest  days;  and  when  one  sees  apples 
marked  at  one  ruble  (about  seventy-five  cents) 
apiece,  it  is  because  the  people  are  determined  to 
have  at  any  cost  whatever  pleases  the  palate. 
Evidently  when  the  Great  Peter  founded  this 
City  he  knew  it  was  for  a  people  who  would 
manage  to  help  themselves  wherever  he  put  them. 
One  of  the  peculiarities  of  a  Russian  city  is  its 
tea-houses,  corresponding  to  the  beer-gardens  of 


360  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

Germany,  and  the  drinking-saloon  of  our  own 
country,  although  the  Russian  drinks  deep  enough 
of  strong  spirits  besides.  Other  refreshments 
such  as  cakes,  bread,  cheese,  etc.,  may  also  be 
obtained  in  these  places,  but  tea  is  usually  the 
only  refreshment  demanded ;  a  company  seat 
themselves  around  a  table  on  which  is  placed  a 
large  and  generously  filled  tea-pot,  and  talk  over 
their  affairs  and  gossip,  drinking  cup  after  cup. 
It  is  said  that  a  Russian  can  drink  more  than  a 
dozen  cups  of  tea  at  one  sitting.  The  Russian 
takes  neither  milk  nor  cream  in  his  tea,  but  prefers 
to  float  therein  delicate  slices  of  lemon.  Smoking, 
too,  is  a  favorite  habit  with  the  Russian,  as  I 
had  learned  even  before  finding  myself  seated  at 
a  restaurant-table  opposite  a  man  who,  with  a 
cigar  in  one  hand  and  a  fork  in  the  other, 
refreshed  himself  with  alternate  morsels  of  food 
and  puffs  at  his  cigar.  I  also  met  a  young, 
accomplished  and  elegant  Moscow  lady,  who 
besides  smoking  in  her  own  room,  always  joined 
her  husband  in  his  after-dinner  ciorarette  smoked 
at  the  table. 

It  will  not  be  doubted  that  the  traveler  here 
finds  his  expenses  by  no  means  small.  Although 
there  are  countries  where  he  may  indulge  in  the 
caprice  of  avoiding  his  countrymen  if  he  love 
himself  and  his  own  pursuits  better  than  his 
fellow-men  and  theirs,  he  will  have  to  pay  dearly 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  36 1 

for  it  in  a  country  like  this  where  he  needs  to  be 
able  to  use  his  own  tongue,  as  well  as  that  of 
preceding  travelers.  Every  landlord  here  has  a 
way  of  making  every  guest  feel  comfortable  up 
to  the  last  moment  of  presenting  his  bill.  Most 
hotels  advertise  dinners  at  one  ruble  and  two 
rubles;  there  is  but  little  difference  between  the 
two  and  both  are  excellent ;  of  course,  the 
"innocent  abroad"  supposes  he  is  having  his 
other  meals  at  a  corresponding  figure,  until  his 
bill  is  presented,  and  he  finds  himself  charged  at 
the  rate  of  from  two  to  three  rubles  for  every 
simple  breakfast  of  a  chop,  tea  and  bread,  and  in 
addition  other  items  accordingly.  In  fact  there  is 
but  one  cheap  thing  in  St.  Petersburg,  and  that 
is  drojky-driving,  and  for  a  few  copecks  you  can 
drive  in  one  of  these  single-seated,  topless 
vehicles  as  fast  and  as  far  as  any  Christian  ought 
to  go. 

Adjoining  the  Winter  Palace  of  the  Emperor, 
is  a  building  known  by  every  body  here  as  the 
Hermitage,  and  which  is,  in  fact,  the  National 
Imperial  Museum.  The  first  building  on  this  site 
was  a  little  house  erected  by  Catherine  the  Great, 
and  here  she  used  to  withdraw  from  the  confusion 
of  the  palace,  and  spend  quiet  hours  with  chosen 
friends.  Hence,  it  was  called  the  Hermitage, 
and  the  name  has  been  transferred  to  the  present 
building.      Like   everything  else  in   this  splendid 

23 


362  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

capital,  this,  too,  is  a  wonder  of  art  and  magnifi- 
cence. It  has  a  front  of  five  hundred  and  fifteen 
feet,  by  a  depth  of  three  hundred  and  seventy- 
five  feet,  inclosing  two  courts  ;  it  is  constructed 
wholly  of  granite  and  marble  of  different  kinds, 
and  is  covered  by  an  iron  roof  Its  only  wood- 
work is  an  occasional  inlaid  fioor.  The  outer 
walls  are  beautified  by  multitudinous  columns  and 
countless  statues.  Within,  thcstairs  are  of  white 
Carrara  marble,  the  ceilings  supported  by  elegant 
marble  columns  of  various  colors,  the  walls  covered 
with  rich  paper,  silk,  or  of  marble,  and  most  of 
the  floors  of  inlaid  marbles.  These  rich  and 
various  stones  are  brought  from  near,  and  from  far 
distant,  provinces,  and  it  is  only  here  that  one  can 
form  a  conception  of  their  beauty  and  variety ; 
they  make  of  the  building,  aside  from  its  contents, 
a  national  exposition  of  Russia's  subterranean 
treasure.  Where  everything  is  on  so  grand  a 
scale,  I  need  hardly  say  that  great  sums  have 
been  expended  to  secure  rare  paintings,  and  the 
whole  collection  is  one  of  the  most  extensive  in 
Europe. 

One  wanders  through  hall  after  hall,  and  gallery 
after  gallery  of  paintings,  till  it  seems  as  if  there 
were  no  end.  Every  hall  of  pictures  contains  at 
least  two  large  vases,  averaging  from  six  to  eight 
feet  in  height,  of  stones,  whose  colors  I  could 
hardly    give,    much    less    their    names.      Besides 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  363 

these    there    were    usually  two  or    three    smaller 
vases  at   one  side,  on   elegant  tables,  each  of  the 
latter  being  some  rare  specimen  of  mosaic  or  other 
work.      Many  of  the  room.s  were  furnished  with 
sofas  for  visitors,  and  these,  with  royal  lavishness, 
were   left  with  all  their  beauty  unprotected   from 
dust   and    sunlight.      The     wood-work    of    these 
was    usually  entirely  covered  with  gilding  ;    the 
cushioned   seats,    with    rich   silk.      There  was  an 
endless  succession   of   halls    thus    furnished:    the 
floors  of  tessellated  marble,  ceihngs  of  rich  frescoes, 
walls   covered    with    silk    and    hung   with    choice 
pictures,  and  a  far  reaching  line  of  vases  of  rare 
materials  and  graceful  forms.      In  one  room,  con- 
taining principally  pictures  by  Murillo,  the  ceiling 
overhead  is  elaborate  in  color  and  stucco;  the  walls 
crimson,  furniture  crimson  and  gold,  and  in  the 
centre  of  the   room  are  two  tables  of  lapis-lazuli, 
in  size  six  or  eight  feet  long,  by  some  four  feet 
wide,    and  two  high  vases  of   the   same  material, 
and    corresponding   dimensions.      The    adjoining 
hall  contains  principally  the  brighter-hued  pictures 
of  Raphael.      It  is  almost  a  copy  of  the  Murillo 
room,  except  that  the  vases  and  tables  of  the  same 
size,  are  of  malachite.     The  catalogue  of  paintings 
contains  over  fifteen  hundred  numbers,  and  there 
is  besides  a  gallery  of  sculpture  and  other  collec- 
tions. 

But  one  of  the  most  interesting  departments  of 


364  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

the  Hermitage  is  the  Gallery  of  Peter  the  Great. 
This  is  devoted  almost  wholly  to  objects  connected 
with  his  memory.  His  image,  dressed  in  the 
costume  of  his  day,  is  seated  in  the  centre  of  the 
room,  while  around  him  are  the  tools  with  which 
he  himself  worked  ;  the  iron  cane  he  usually 
carried,  and  which  I  found  very  heavy  to  lift ; 
statuettes,  and  casts  of  his  face  ;  the  stuffed  bodies 
of  the  horse  he  rode,  and  of  his  favorite  dogs  ; 
his  books,  mathematical  instruments,  and  countless 
other  things. 

No  one  will  willingly  leave  St,  Petersburg 
without  seeing  its  Fortress,  but  that,  not  for  its 
fortification,  but  because  it  encloses  the  Chapel 
where  are  buried  all  the  rulers  of  Russia,  with 
but  one  exception,  from  Peter  the  Great  to  our 
own  day.  Driving  within  the  gate  as  far  as  was 
allowed,  our  driver  motioned  for  us  to  alight  and 
proceed  on  foot.  At  a  little  distance  an  ascend- 
ing walk  led  up  under  an  arched  gateway, 
across  which  was  extended  a  line  of  clothes  to  dry, 
leading  to  a  fortified  embankment,  promising  a 
fine  view.  My  companion  walked  on  to  enjoy 
this,  while  I  remained  behind.  Soon  an  alarm 
was  raised,  soldiers  ran,  an  officer  appeared,  the 
eyes  of  all  were  directed  to  the  audacious  stranger, 
and  it  was  evident  that  either  he  or  the  Fortress 
was  in  danger  of  being  taken.  I  approached  the 
officer  and  endeavored   to  explain  ;  the  stranger 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  365 

was  a  perfectly  harmless  individual  ;  we  admired 
St.  Petersburg  very  much,  but  we  had  really  no 
desire  to  take  its  Citadel  ;  had  no  room  for  it  in 
our  carpet  bags,  and  should'nt  know  what  to  do 
with  it  if  we  did,  being  Americans.  "Americanski! 
Americanski!"  interrupted  the  hitherto  glum-look- 
ing officer,  bowing  most  politely,  and  cordially 
smiling,  and  the  stern  officer  was  lost  in  the 
hospitable  host.  Soldiers  were  dispersed  in  every 
direction,  for  some  one  who  could  speak  English, 
but  the  most  any  of  the  summoned  could  do  in 
English  was  to  shake  his  head  ;  finally,  one  was 
selected  to  accompany  us,  and  was  evidently  told 
to  take  us  everywhere  and  explain  everything; 
the  latter  he  did  in  pure  Russian,  which,  of  course, 
was  most  edifvino-  to  us,  and  the  former  he  did  so 
thoroughly,  that  before  we  got  through  we 
concluded  that  the  Fortress  of  St.  Petersburg,  or 
of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  as  it  is  called,  was  as 
extensive  as  all  Russia.  Besides  all  kinds  of 
cannon,  modern  and  ancient,  and  general  arms  of 
war,  were  many  things  connected  with  the  personal 
history  of  Russian  rulers,  particularly  with  Peter 
the  Great  and  Catherine,  there  being  several 
splendid  life-size  portraits  of  the  latter  at  different 
periods  of  her  life. 

At  last  we  came  to  the  Chapel  which  may  be 
called  the  Russian  Royal  Mausoleum,  Its  exterior 
is  not  imposing;  it  measures  two  hundred  and  ten 


366  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

feet   in   length,    by     ninety-eight    in    width,     its 

walls   being  fifty-eight   feet   in   height,  and  these 

dimensions  are  dwarfed   by  comparison  with  the 

surrounding  fortifications;  but  its  most  remarkable 

feature,  exteriorly,  is  a  slender,  graceful  spire  which 

had  attracted  our  attention  during  our  whole  stay 

in  St.  Petersburg,  and  which  rises  twenty-six  feet 

hiofher  than  the  cross  of  the  celebrated  St.   Paul's 

of  London.      The  tombs  within  are  all  alike;  plain 

blocks   of   marble   some   six   feet  long,  three  feet 

wide  and  high,  each  enclosed  by  a  gilded  railing, 

and  bearing  only  a  sunken  golden  inscription  of  a 

cross,  and  the  name  by  which  the  moldering  dust 

below  once  ruled  this,  the  modern  world's  largest 

empire.       Over    one    tomb    hang    the    keys    of 

fortresses  taken  by  the  valiant  w^arrior  lying  below 

in   abject  submission    to  a  greater  than  he;  over 

another   droops   batde   flags,    and  still  again  the 

diamond  betrothal-ring  of  another  sparkles  in  the 

light  of  the    never-extinguished    memorial   lamp 

swinging  over  a  neighboring  tomb.     The  present 

Emperor  has  inherited  none   of   the    aristocratic 

tendencies  of  his  ancestors,  and  subjects  here  will 

tell  you  of  the  shabby  coat  and  ink-stained  cuffs 

in  which  he  may    be   often  seen  driving  out  for 

recreation  from  his  assiduous  labors.     A  few  years 

ago  he  lost  his  oldest  son,  who  was  said  to  be  like 

his  father,  the  people's  friend  and  lover,  while  the 

present  heir  apparent  is  said  to  be  an  aristocrat 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  367 

without  sympathy  in  the  present  Emperor's  efforts 
for  the  elevation  and  freedom  of  the  common 
people.  Nothing  can  be  more  touching,  more 
accurately  descriptive  of  the  spot,  than  the  follow- 
ing from  Hepworth  Dixon's  "  Russia." 

"Meantime  the  reforming  Emperor  holds  his 
course,  a  lonely  man  much  crossed  by  care,  much 
tried  by  family  afflictions,  much  enduring  in  his 
public  life.  One  dark  December  day,  two  English- 
men hail  a  boat  on  the  Neva  brink  and  push  out 
rapidly  through  the  bars  of  ice  towards  that  grim 
Fortress  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  in  which  lie 
buried  under  marble  slab  and  golden  cross,  the 
Emperors  and  Empresses  since  Peter  the  Great. 
As  they  pushed  onward  they  observed  the  water- 
men drop  their  oars  and  doff  their  caps,  and, 
looking  around,  they  see  the  Imperial  barge 
impelled  by  twenty  rowers.  The  Emperor  sits 
in  that  barge  alone,  an  officer  stands  at  his  side, 
the  helmsman  directs  the  rowers  how  to  pull, 
saluting  as  he  glides  past  their  boat.  The  Em- 
peror jumps  to  land,  and  muffling  his  loose  gray 
coat  about  his  neck,  steps  hastily  toward  the 
church.  No  one  goes  with  him.  Trying  the 
front  door  of  that  sombre  church,  he  finds  it  locked, 
and  strides  quickly  to  a  second  door,  beckoning 
to  a  man  in  plain  clothes  to  admit  him.  The 
door  is  quickly  opened,  and  the  lord  of  seventy 
millions  walks  into  the  church  that  is  to  be  his  final 


368  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

home.  The  EngHsh  visitors  are  near.  'Wait 
for  an  instant,'  says  the  man  in  plain  clothes,  'the 
Emperor  is  within,  but  step  into  the  porch,  he 
will  not  keep  you  long.'  The  porch  is  separated 
from  the  church  by  glass  doors  only,  and  the 
visitors  look  upon  the  scene  within.  Long  aisles 
and  columns  stretch  and  rise  before  them.  Flags 
and  trophies  won  in  a  hundred  battles  adorn  the 
walls,  and  here  and  there  a  silver  lamp  burns 
fitfully  in  front  of  a  pictured  saint.  Between  the 
columns  stand  in  white  sepulchral  rows  the 
Imperial  tombs,  a  weird  and  ghastly  scene,  gleam- 
ing in  that  red  and  sombre  light.  Alone,  his  cap 
drawn  tightly  on  his  brow,  and  muffled  in  his 
loose  gray  coat,  the  Emperor  passes  from  slab  to 
slab,  now  pausing  an  instant,  as  if  conning  an 
inscription  on  a  stone,  now  crossing  the  nave, 
absorbed  and  bent.  The  dead  are  all  around  him 
— Peter,  Catherine,  Paul,  fierce  warriors,  tender 
women,  innocent  babes;  and  overhead,  the  dust 
and  glory  of  a  hundred  wars.  What  brings  him 
hither  in  this  wintry  dusk?  The  weight  of  life? 
The  love  of  death?  He  stops,  unbonnets,  kneels 
— at  the  foot  of  his  mother's  tomb !  Once  more 
he  pauses,  kneels — kneels  a  long  time  as  if  in 
prayer;  then,  rising,  kisses  the  golden  cross;  that 
slab  is  the  tomb  of  his  eldest  son.  A  moment 
later  he  is  gone." 

Gone — but  how  few  the  years  ere  once  more  he 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  369 

is  to  come,  lonelier  still,  but  this  time,  alas!  the 
door  stands  open  to  receive  him — this  time  he 
visits  but  one  tomb,  his  own,  and  it  is  the  prayers 
of  others  that  rise,  the  tears  of  others  that  fall, 
over  his  shattered  body  torn  by  assassin-ball  of 
Nihilist. 

St.  Petersburg,  Russia,  October,  1875. 


370  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


XXXVII. 

A  ROYAL  CELEBRATION  IN  BERLIN— THE  EMPEROR  OF 
GERMANY  AND  HIS  COURT— THE  CHAPEL  OF  THE 
OLD  SCHLOSS. 

^^0-DA  V,  the  first  Sunday  following  the 
anniversary  of  the  Coronation  of  the  King 
of  Prussia  and  present  Emperor '  of 
Germany  has  occurred  a  general  celebration  by  all 
the  different  orders  of  nobility  and  of  merit,  from 
the  highest  to  the  lowest  in  the  Empire.  The 
celebration,  commencing  by  a  religious  service  in 
the  Old  Schloss  or  Castle,  was  to  be  participated 
in  by  all  who  have  received  the  Decoration  of  any 
Order,  and  by  no  one  else. 

The  service  took  place  in  the  Chapel  of  the 
Schloss;  this  Chapel  is  situated  on  the  upper 
floor  under  the  dome,  and  although  apparently 
neither  so  large  nor  so  high  as  it  is,  it  must  be 
capacious  enough  to  hold  at  least  two  thousand 
persons.  Its  ceiling  is  a  high  dome  frescoed  in 
gold  and  in  medallion  paintings,  there  being  of 
the  latter  three  rows  at  some  distance,  one  above 
the  other,  and  in  each  row  twenty-four  medallions, 
of  course  diminishing  in  size,  those  of  the  upper 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  371 

circle  belne  from  three  to  four  feet  in  diameter, 
and  representing  two  heads  of  winged  cherubs 
looking  downwards  from  out  the  clouds.  The 
circle  below  the  dome  is  divided  at  equal  distances 
by  statues,  twenty-four  in  number;  below  these 
again  are  twenty-four  arched  windows.  Still 
below  the  latter  is  the  gallery  with  gilded  balus- 
trade, greatly  elevated  above  the  main  floor.  A 
broad  band  above  the  circular  gallery  and  another 
below  it  recite  to  the  eye  the  words  of  the  Beati- 
tudes of  the  Holy  Scriptures.  In  this  gallery 
were  placed  the  few  spectators  admitted,  and  also 
the  musicians,  and  from  it  they  looked  down  upon 
a  sea  of  gold,  of  silver,  and  of  brilliant  colors, 
made  by  the  rich  uniforms,  regalia,  scarfs  and 
jewels  of  this  thronged  assembly,  including  both 
nobles  and  commoners  by  birth,  whom  Imperial 
honors  distinguish  from  the  ranks  of  the  people. 

The  main  body  of  the  Chapel  is  also  circular; 
the  curve  of  its  wall  being  broken  by  four  equi- 
distant semi-circular  alcoves  and  the  whole  covered 
with  frescoes  of  biblical  or  sacred  pictures,  or  with 
mosaic  of  marble. 

The  altar  is  furnished  with  a  gilded  baldachin, 
or  pointed  canopy,  supported  by  four  columns  of 
Egyptian  marble,  bright  orange  and  white  in  color. 
Behind  the  altar  is  a  cross  several  feet  in  height, 
set  with  real  jewels  selected  by  one  of  the  late 
Kino;s  from  his  own  collection.      From  the  centre 


372  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

of  the  dome  is  suspended  an  immense  crystal 
chandelier,  and  following-  the  circle  of  the  wall,  at 
equal  distances,  are  twelve  candelabra  supported 
by  twelve  slender  marble  columns,  the  latter 
having  been  excavated  from  the  ruins  of  Pompeii. 

Before  the  altar  is  a  broad  unoccupied  space  on 
each  side  of  which  are  seats  forming  lines  at  right- 
angles  with  the  altar.  These  seats  at  the  left  of 
the  altar,  as  we  stand  facing  it,  are  arm-chairs,  in 
number  about  eighty,  and  are  to  be  occupied  by 
the  Court;  those  opposite  are  ordinary  chairs. 
The  first  chair  at  the  left  and  nearest  the  altar,  is 
the  Emperor's  seat;  directly  opposite  this  and 
at  the  right  of  the  altar  is  Bismarck's  chair,  which 
to-day,  however,  Bismarck  being  absent,  was 
occupied  by  the  venerable  Field -Marshal  Von 
Wrangel,  an  old  man  nearly  ninety  years  of  age, 
wearing  a  complete  uniform  of  white  with  trim- 
mings of  gold.  Next  to  him  was  seated  Von 
Moltke,  whose  slender  and  wrinkled  face  might 
betoken  a  plain  and  simple  character,  but  I 
surmise  his  heart  yet  hides  in  strong  life  a  full 
portion  of  military  pride. 

For  more  than  an  hour  we  stood,  and  waited, 
and  gazed,  as  wave  after  wave  of  glitter  and  of 
color  agitated  the  shining  surface  upon  which  we 
looked  down.  So  elaborate  were  most  of  the 
costumes  with  embroidery  in  gold,  with  bands  of 
gold  and  of  silver  lace,  added  to  shining  epaulets, 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  373 

scarfs  and  sashes  of  various  colors,  that  their 
ground  colors  could  scarcely  be  distinguished. 
An  officer  on  guard  near  the  door,  wore  a  uniform 
of  white  cloth,  with  cuirass  of  scarlet,  while  a  solid 
star  made  of  narrow  silver  braid  completely 
covered  the  breast.  There  were  embassadors 
representing  all  the  splendor  of  their  respective 
Courts  and  Monarchs;  there  were  honored  heroes 
of  battle-fields,  whose  names  are  known  world- 
wide; and  there  were  still  other  heroes  whose 
banner  is  Science,  whose  cause  is  Progress,  whose 
weapons  are  the  sharp  poignard  of  intellectual 
insight,  the  two-edged  sword  of  studied  thought, 
and  who,  the  vanguard  of  the  intellect  of  our 
century,  have  received,  for  their  brave  service. 
Imperial  honors.  There  was  the  Rector  of 
Berlin's  Universitv,  with  lonor  circular  cloak  of 
purple  velvet,  heavy  with  embroidery  in  thread 
of  gold;  there  were  University  Professors  in  plain 
suit  of  black,  the  breast  decked  with  one  or  more 
honors;  Professors  of  Medicine,  too,  those  other 
heroes  who  fight,  not  to  destroy,  but  to  save, 
whose  standard,  following  ever  in  the  wake  of 
the  Warrior's  Banner  of  Death,  bears  the  motto, 
''Life  and  Victory."  In  our  republican  country 
the  position  of  the  medical  man  is  a  one-sided 
one;  he  gives  orders,  but  does  not  receive  them; 
here  we  have  the  old  rule  of  give  and  take — order 
for  order — and  one  or  two  breasts  were  so  covered 


-1 


74  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


v/ith  decorations  as  to  suggest  that  his  Imperial 
Majesty  had  conferred  one  for  every  bitter  pill 
administered,  while  the  scarf  so  gracefully  worn 
over  the  shoulder  seemed  emblematic  of  the 
surgeon's  bandage,  and  the  sword  at  the  side 
suggested  the  surgeon's  knife  in  this  military 
nation. 

As-  we  were  observing  all  this  display  and 
appreciating  its  significance,  our  attention  was 
attracted  to  one  of  the  officers,  who,  carrying 
burning  incense,  walked  slowly  thrice  around  the 
triangle  of  chairs  reserved  for  the  Court,  and  then 
passed  with  it  down  the  stairway  that  Royalty 
was  to  ascend.     An  interval,  and  then  the  Master 

of  Ceremonies,   Count ,  knocked  on  the 

floor  with  his  silver-headed  mace,  and  suddenly 
the  whole  assembly  stood  in  hushed,  respectful 
silence  to  receive  Wilhelm  I.,  Emperor  of 
Germany,  and  his  Court.  The  Emperor  enters 
with  slow  and  stately  step,  the  arm  of  the  Empress 
in  his;  a  few  steps  within  the  door  they  stop,  then 
^reet  with  a  single  bow  and  courtesy,  slight  but 
respectful,  the  standing  assembly. 

The  Emperor,  although  in  his  seventy-ninth 
year,  looks  not  more  than  sixty,  and  his  step  has 
the  firmness,  if  not  the  elasticity  of  that  of  a 
younger  man.  Surely  one  must  believe  that 
simple  habits,  freedom  from  dissipation,  out-of- 
door  exercise,  and  not  too  much  study,  have  been 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  375 

the  rules  of  his  hfe.  Yet,  Time,  who  brought  him 
one  crown,  took  from  him  a  fairer  une,  so  that  in 
vain  he  tries  to  cover  his  baldness  with  a  few 
straggling  hairs.  To-day  he  wears  a  dark  uniform 
trimmed  with  gold;  across  the  shoulders  the 
yellow  sash  of  the  Order  of  the  Black  Eagle,  the 
highest  Order  in  the  Empire;  conspicuous  on  his 
breast  hangs  a  small  iron  cross,  the  insignia  of  an 
Order  founded  in  1813,  by  Friedrich-Wilhelm  III., 
and  revived  by  the  present  Emperor  in  1870,  as 
an  honorary  reward  for  distinguished  bravery  in 
the  battles  of  the  Franco-Prussian  war  ;  he  has 
modestly  conferred  this  on  himself.  The  Emperor 
has  one  of  those  faces  which  we  call  good-natured, 
and  which  means,  I  surmise,  good-natured  so  long 
as  he  has  his  own  way,  for  he  is  a  determined- 
looking  old  fellow  withal,  and  has  a  sturdy  will  of 
his  own,  which  I  am  sure  he  as  little  relishes  to 
have  opposed  as  would  you  or  I  ours,  were  we 
Emperors. 

The  Empress  Augusta,  is  a  sickly,  miserable- 
looking  woman,  whom  all  the  resources  of  art  fail 
to  make  look  either  healthy  or  happy.  On  her 
head  is  a  double  diadem  of  diamonds  magnificently 
brilliant  as  becomes  her  station;  her  head-dress  in 
addition  consists  of  white  ostrich-plumes  which 
fasten  a  long  veil  of  soft  lace  falling  behind.  Over 
her  shoulders  she  wears  a  deep  ermine  cape  which 
she  does  not  remove,  but  at  the  throat  escape  the 


'^'j(:>  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

pendants  of  a  necklace  matching  in  magnificence 
the  diamonds  of  her  diadem;  her  dress  is  of 
white  satin,  trimmed  with  a  delicate,  soft,  golden 
lace;  she  wears  a  train  some  four  yards  in  length, 
of  a  deep,  scarlet  velvet,  embroidered  with  golden 
crowns  of  some  half-dozen  inches  in  dimension, 
and  with  black  eagles;  the  sides  and  bottom  of 
the  train  are  finished  with  a  band  of  ermine. 
The  train  of  the  Empress,  as  also  that  of  every- 
one of  the  six  ladies  of  the  Imperial  family,  is 
carried  by  two  pages,  one  at  each  corner,  who 
raise  it  about  a  foot  from  the  ground,  thus 
revealing  the  ordinary  train  of  the  skirt  beneath. 
The  dozen  pages  are  from  fourteen  to  sixteen 
years  of  age  and  are  all  dressed  alike,  in  white 
stockings  and  white  knee-breeches  with  silver 
garters,  scarlet  coats  trimmed  with  silver  lace,  and 
muslin  cravats  that  fall  over  the  breast  in  long, 
broad  ends  of  soft  lace;  after  their  ladies  are 
seated  they  form  themselves  in  a  group  at  one 
corner,  looking  like  a  cluster  of  scarlet  and  white 
geranium  blossoms. 

Behind  the  Emperor  and  Empress  follow  the 
Crown  Prince  and  the  Crown  Princess.  The 
former  is  a  tall,  straight,  soldierly-seeming  man, 
who  looks  as  if  he  had  plentyof  good,  hard,  practical 
sense;  his  complexion,  more  fair  than  dark,  is 
somewhat  browned  as  that  of  a  soldier  should  be; 
his  dress  is  similar  to  that  of  the  Emperor. 


LETTERS  OF  TRAVEL.  ■}^']'] 

One  who  could  see  beauty  in  the  Crown 
Princess  must  be  bhndly  loyal;  yet  I  have  heard 
Englishwomen  enthusiastic  upon  the  charm  in 
her  face  and  in  her  eyes;  to  me  her  coarse  com- 
plexion and  cold,  red,  bare  arms  were  anything 
but  charming;  yet  her  solitary  example  of 
declining  the  cosmetic  use  of  paint  and  enamel 
so  disgustingly  conspicuous  that  day  among  the 
ladies  of  the  Court,  commanded  respect  and 
bespoke  character.  The  Crown  Princess  wore 
dress  and  train  of  velvet,  apple-green  in  color  and 
trimmed  with  ermine;  a  small  ermine  collar 
covered  the  neck;  she  also  wore  a  diadem  of 
diamonds  and  head-dress  of  white  ostrich-plumes 
confining  a  veil  of  orlisteningf  lace. 

Next  followed  the  Princess  Carl  and  her  pages; 
her  dress  was  a  white  satin  skirt  with  waist  and 
train  of  dark  crimson  velvet,  elaborately  and 
heavily  embroidered  and  bordered  in  gold;  a 
sparkling  necklace  of  brilliants  sufficed  as  protec- 
tion to  her  low-dressed  shoulders,  while  her  veil 
of  golden  lace  was  fastened  with  tinted  ostrich- 
plumes. 

The  Prince  and  Princess  Friedrich  Carl,  who 
followed  next,  were  son  and  daughter-in-law  of 
the  preceding.  The  Princess's  waist  and  train  of 
bright  blue  velvet  worn  over  a  skirt  of  white 
satin,  was  relieved  with  embroidery  of  silver  and 
pearls;  her  diadem,  was  of  diamonds  and  pearls, 

24 


T^yS  LETTERS  OF  TRAVEL. 

with  necklace  like  a  liquid  stream  of  light  and 
blaze.  These  were  followed  by  two  young  ladies, 
their  daughters,  dressed  alike,  in  blue  and  white, 
each  with  her  pages,  and  in  their  dress  the  national 
corn-flower  blossomed  among  the  jewels  they 
wore. 

It  was  very  interesting  to  see  how  skillfully 
the  pages  arranged  the  trains  when  the  ladies 
seated  themselves;  that  of  the  Empress  was 
dexterously  laid  in  folds  over  her  arm-chair,  thus 
falling  around  her  as  she  sat.  For  the  other 
ladies,  the  train  was  drawn  to  one  side  as  each 
sank  in  her  chair,  and  then  brought  forward  and 
spread  out  upon  the  floor  before  her,  and  as  the 
wearers  sat  in  line  these  trains  formed  a  mao^nifii- 
cent  carpet  reaching  half  across  the  wide  space  in 
front  of  the  altar. 

Directly  behind  these  already  mentioned  were 
seated  the  eldest  son  of  the  Crown  Prince,  the 
Grand  Duke  of  Mecklenburg,  four  Princes  of  the 
House  of  Hohenzollern,  and,  still  behind,  other 
nobles  who  had  arrived  from  different  parts  of 
Germany  to  attend  these  festivities;  the  remaining 
seats  were  occupied  by  the  ladies  of  the  Court, 
among  whom  was  so  little  beauty  that  the  Goddess 
of  Discord  would  never  have  thrown  into  their 
midst  her  golden  apple  with  its  inscription,  "  Let 
the  fairest  take  me." 

After  all  were   seated  the  church    service  was 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  379 

performed,  six  clergymen  assisting,  chant,  prayer 
and  sermon  failinofnot. 

Let  us  hope  that  when,  finally,  Heaven  calls 
her  roll  of  nobility,  all  these  of  to-day  may  respond 
with  jewels  as  bright,  with  honors  as  well  earned, 
with  titles  as  secure,  as  those  displayed  on  this 
occasion. 

At  the  close  of  the  religious  ceremonies  the 
royal  and  noble  company  adjourned  to  a  colossal 
banquet  awaiting  them  in  the  most  splendid  halls 
of  the  castle. 

Berlin,  January  i,  1876. 


I 
180  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


XXXVIII. 

ALEXANDRIA— EGYPTIAN  WOMEN— COSTUMES- 
STREET  SCENES. 

UST  four  days  and  nights  on  one  of 
the  Messaorerie's  finest  Mediterranean 
steamers  between  Naples  and  Alexandria. 
Long  unaccustomed  to  the  sea,  the  first  half  of 
this  time  has  numbered  one  hundred  and  twenty 
seconds  to  a  minute,  one  hundred  and  twenty 
minutes  to  an  hour,  and  each  separately  noted 
and  counted  ;  the  other  two  days  were  like  those 
sunny,  Summer  days  of  the  long  ago,  that  drew 
their  slow  length  so  dreamily,  so  lazily  along, 
such  as  we  all  remember,  and  such  as  I  had  been 
told  I  should  find  lying  around  loose  everywhere 
in  staid  old  Europe,  and  which  for  the  past  two 
years  I  have  looked  for  in  vain,  finding  them  at 
last  only  as  we  glide  smoothly  over  the  blue 
waters  of  the  Mediterranean  far  towards  the 
traveler's  Orient,  as  were  those  other  days  they 
mirror  far  away  towards  life's  Orient. 

As  we  have  made  the  most  direct  voyage 
between  the  two  ports  our  course  has  been  in 
mid-sea,  with  no  view  of  land  except  an  occasional 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  38 I 

dim  outline  in  the  horizon,  and  our  eyes  are  fresh 
and  keen  for  the  first  view  of  the  city  of  the  great 
Macedonian,  of  the  land  of  Cleopatra. 

Behind  a  glistening  snow-white  breakwater, 
stretching  out  its  long  protecting  arm  of  stone, 
lies  the  spacious  harbor  of  Alexandria  alive  with 
boats  and  shipping  ;  the  light-houses  and  large 
government-buildings  loom  forth  in  equal  white- 
ness, while  beyond  spreads  out  the  large,  level, 
white-looking  sunny  and  bright  city  of  Alex- 
andria. An  obliging  fellow-traveler,  resident  in 
Alexandria,  points  out  to  me  Pompey's  Pillar.  I 
thank  him,  only  to  find  out  afterward  that  my 
eyes  had  made  a  mistake,  and  I  had  exhausted 
my  enthusiasm  over  a  brand-new  tower-like 
chimney  to  a  modern  factory. 

The  steamer  comes  to  anchor  at  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  from  the  shore,  and  for  our  dozen  passengers 
— a  small  company  on  account  of  the  lateness 
of  the  season — -suddenly  and  in  an  instant  the 
deck  swarms  with  a  hundred  dragomen,  who  have 
rushed  on  board  from  their  boats ;  their  large, 
loose  trousers,  some  of  white  cotton,  some  of 
colored  woolen  stuff  matching  the  jacket,  look 
like  the  full  skirt  of  a  woman,  with  the  extremities 
of  its  width  orathered  with  some  fullness  around 
each  ankle,  while  the  intermediate  width  of  cloth 
is  sufficient  to  allow  of  a  very  long  stride  ;  the 
broad,  bright  sash  wound  at  least  twice  around 


382  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

the  waist,  the  wide  ends  hanging  gracefully  at  the 
side,  the  close-fitting,  red  Turkish  cap,  and  the  white 
cloth  wound  turban-like  around  the  outside  of  it, 
transform  the  whole  in  an  instant  into  an  Eastern 
picture,  as  if  it  were  the  sudden  shifting  on  the 
staofe  of  a  theatre  from  an  Eno;lish  scene  on  board 
ship  to  the  midst  of  an  Oriental  city.  These 
men  push  each  other  and  quarrel,  as  a  dozen  at  a 
time  surround  and  assail  a  single  passenger,  and 
the  very  tolerable  English  and  French  with  which 
they  accost  the  voyagers,  mingle  with  the  strange 
sounds  of  their  native  language  as  they  dispute 
and  threaten  each  other,  each  asserting  priority 
of  claim  to  the  stranger ;  and  we  find  ourselves 
speechless,  helpless  and  almost  in  despair,  as 
stunned  and  amused  as  the  transformation  of  scene 
has  been  sudden  and  novel. 

At  last  we  descend  the  ship's  ladder  into  a  boat 
from  which  we  have  first  to  expel  some  three  or 
four  Arabs  who  declare  we  have  hired  them  all 
to  take  our  luggage  on  shore  ;  landing,  our  honest 
dragoman  demands  now  double  the  fare  for  which 
he  agreed  to  take  us — just  as  he  will  demand  it 
from  you,  my  friend,  about  to  follow  in  our  foot- 
steps, and  which  we  peaceably  paid,  as  you,  my 
friend,  may  as  well  do,  too.  The  officer  examining 
our  trunk  gets  a  peep  at  a  brown  terra-cotta 
figure  of  the  withered  face  of  Seneca  and  accuses 
us  of  trying  to  smuggle  a  mummy   through   the 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  383 

Custom-house,  as  if  we  had  not  already  in  our 
lives  carried  too  many  coals  to  Newcastle  to  begin 
now  to  carry  mummies  to  Egypt;  unrolling  the 
statuette  he  laughs  and  is  satisfied,  and  we  pass, 
freed  from  Egyptian  duties,  into  the  full  liberty 
of  Egyptian  life. 

It  is  very  well  to  talk  of  the  picturesqueness 
of  life  in  Southern  Europe  and  in  the  East;  it 
is  so,  especially  in  the  East,  but  /low  picturesque 
no  one  can  imagine  till  he  sees  it,  nor  fully 
appreciate  till  he  returns  again  to  the  compara- 
tively tame  monotony  of  dress,  and  buildings, 
and  customs,  of  our  civilization.  But  though 
picturesque,  it  becomes  almost  equally  disgusting, 
and,  first  or  last,  you  are  sure  to  long  to  see 
laboring  people  well  clad,  clean  markets  and 
thrifty-looking  dwellings  and  shops,  and  to  thank 
God,  who  made  the  Orient  for  these,  that  He  did 
not  forget  to  make  the  Occident  for  us. 

Scorning  the  thought  of  devoting  our  first  hours 
in  this  novel  land  to  so  commonplace  an  object  as 
seeking  a  hotel,  from  the  Custom-house  we  start 
immediately  for  a  stroll  through  the  streets. 

The  poet  and  his  song  have  perhaps  associated 
a  poetic  illusion  with  the  veiled  women  of  the 
East ;  nothing  could  be  more  prosaic  and  unillu- 
sive  than  they  really  are.  Their  outside  garment  is 
generally  of  a  dingy  dark-blue  or  black,  loose  and 
shapeless;  the  head  is  covered  by  a  black  or  dark- 


384  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

colored    piece    of   cloth,   falling  loosely  over  the 
neck  behind,  and  partially  covering  the  forehead. 
The  prominent  feature  of  their  dress  is  a  round, 
spiral-like  ornament  of  gold,  silver  or  wood  ;  it  is 
about  two  inches  long  and  as  large  round  as  one's 
finger,  reaches  from  the  middle  of  the  forehead 
to  the  middle  of  the  nose,  and  serves  to  attach 
the  veil  to  the  covering  of  the  head.     The  veil 
is  of  thick  black  stuff,  silk  or  cotton,  and  extends 
just. under  the  eyes  way  across  the  face,  where  it 
mingles  with  other  wrappings  near  the  ears,  while 
in  length  it  falls  nearly  to  the  feet  and   is   pointed 
in  shape  ;    there  are  also  here  and  there,  veils  of 
thick  white  muslin.     The  veil,   I   am  told,   is  not 
worn  in  their  homes,  but  only  when  the  women 
are  in  danger  of  being  looked  upon  by  Christians, 
or  perhaps  when  the  Christians  are  in  danger  of 
seeing  them  ;    I   am  not  sure  at  this  moment  on 
which  side  the  danger    is.      Later    in   the  day  a 
good-natured  man,  whose  sidewalk  restaurant  we 
were  glad  to  patronize,   that  we  might  continue 
drinking  with  our  thirsty  eyes  while  feeding  our 
hungry    mouths,    said    to    us:   "There's    a  good 
manv  of  the  women  who  wear   the  veil  to  .show 
their    husbands    how    good    they    are,    but    they 
associate    with    Christians    all    the    same."       He 
also  said  that  the  woman  who  is  able  to  sport  a 
ring    in   her  nose  is  the  envy   of  all  her  female 
friends  ;  and  that  a  Pasha  came  down  from  Cairo 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  385 

last  week,  bringing  with  liim  sixty-three  carriages 
full  of  wives,  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  in  all, 
to  his  Summer  palaces  near  the  sea. 

The  bright  reddish  stain  of  the  henna,  with 
which  the  finger-nails  are  universally  colored,  we 
first  observe  as  one  Arab  lights  his  cigar  by  that 
of  another ;  then  our  eyes  are  attracted  to  the 
tall,  upright  figures  and  regular  features  of  men 
wearing  a  long,  loose,  white  cotton  dress,  falling 
open  to  the  waist,  fully  revealing  the  whole 
breadth  of  chest,  the  wide  sleeves  open  and 
flowing,  turbaned  head  and  bright-red  shoes. 
There  is  every  variety  of  combination  of  color  in 
this  gay  panorama  of  strange  costumes,  which 
grows  in  picturesqueness  even  in  the  very 
observing  of  it  ;  wide  blue  trousers,  with  shirt  of 
broad  stripes  of  red  and  white,  and  stately-looking 
men  in  long,  loose  gowns  of  sky-blue,  wide 
flowing  sleeves,  white  turbans  and  perhaps  white 
beards  on  their  dark  brown  skins.  There  is 
every  colored  skin  here  but  white  ;  the  faces  are 
for  the  most  part  thin,  with  fine  and  regular 
features  and  an  expression  of  keen  intelligence, 
all  of  which  combine  to  convey  an  impression  of 
refinement.  There  are.  too,  not  a  few  black 
faces.  I  thought  I  had  seen  blacks  in  America, 
but  I  was  mistaken  ;  ebony  is  almost  brown  in 
comparison  with  these,  but  there  is  a  total 
absence  of  the  animal  features  that  we  connect 


386  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

with  the  negro  race ;  their  eyes  are  wonderfully 
beautiful ;  the  lashes  and  lids  manage  to  conceal 
the  ugly  contrasting  white,  and  their  brilliant 
light,  like  the  sparkle  of  some  strange  jewel,  is 
nevertheless  gentle  as  it  twinkles  like  a  bright 
star  and  beams  with  intelligence.  With  fine  and 
delicate  features  the  effect  is  wonderful,  dressed 
as  they  are  in  a  simple,  loose  gown  and  turban, 
both  as  perfectly  white  as  themselves  are  perfectly 
black  ;  in  fact  I  find  them  very  handsome,  and  I 
remember  that  the  heathen  orod  Memnon  had  his 
surpassing  beauty  enhanced  by  its  rare  blackness, 
and  the  story  of  Othello  and  Desdemona  does 
not  seem  so  utterly  absurd  after  all. 

In  the  streets  there  are  no  great  signs  of  indus- 
try or  activity,  and  it  seems  as  strange  as  every- 
thing else  to  be  in  danger  of  stepping  upon  the 
bodies  of  sleeping  men,  who  have  lain  down  to 
sleep  wherever  they  happened  to  be — on  the 
sidewalk,  in  the  public  square,  sometimes  in  the 
shade,  sometimes  in  the  burning  sunshine,  lying 
scattered  around  the  sandy  streets  in  slumber  at 
midday.  For  vehicles  we  see  English  carriages  and 
horses,  but  evidently  rather  for  wealthy  residents 
and  the  use  of  travelers;  some  camels  with  their 
burdens,  but  everywhere  little  bits  of  donkeys 
with  big  men  in  loose  trousers  astride  of  them,  the 
saddle  built  up  to  a  considerable  height,  while  as 
every  Jack  has  his  Gill,  so  every  donkey  has  his 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  387 

donkey-boy  who  runs  behind,  whipping  or  rather 
hitting  him  continually  with  a  good-sized  cudgel, 
the  blows  falling  on  the  flesh  ever  raw  from 
continued  beating.  I  have  found  out  now  the 
meaning  of  the  horrible  unearthly  sound  of  the 
donkeys'  bray;  all  over  the  world  they  are  echoing 
the  complaint  of  the  Eastern  donkeys'  woe, 
cudgeled  from  one  century  to  another,  cudgeled 
by  Arab,  cudgeled  by  Bedouin,  cudgeled  by 
Nubian,  cudgeled  by  Egyptian,  cudgeled  by  Turk, 
cudgeled  by  Copt,  Mussulman  and  heathen — are 
these  wounds  ever  to  cry  to  heaven  unheard  ? 

So  much  have  we  seen  and  heard  in  something 
less  than  a  half-day  in  Alexandria.  All  Egypt  is 
before  us,  and  we  are  athirst  with  the  traveler's 
feverish  longing  for  the  beyond;  we  accordingly 
drive  to  the  railroad  station,  having  concluded  to 
finish  our  first  day  in  Egypt  with  a  six-hours' 
journey  to  Cairo.  As  we  take  our  luggage  a  sly 
Arab  smuggles  himself  along  with  it.  Arrived  at 
a  station,  he  claims  a  fee.  He  has  done  nothing 
and  we  have  nothing  for  him  to  do,  but  his 
persistence  is  so  great  and  our  efforts  to  rid  our- 
selves of  him  so  ineflectual  that  our  only  choice 
seems  to  be  between  giving  him  a  franc  or 
keeping  him  till  death  doth  us  part,  and  so  we 
naturally  accede  at  last  to  his  demand. 

Alexandria,  Egypt,  March,  1876. 


388  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


XXXIX. 

FROM  ALEXANDRIA  TO  CAIRO— HAPPY  BEGGARS- 
FEMALE  WATER-CARRIERS— VILLAGES  OF  MUD  HUTS 
—A  MOSLEM  BURYING  GROUND. 

7"  is  not  during  the  first  twenty-four  hours 
in  Egypt  that  one  remembers  that  even 
change  of  scene  may  become  monotonous; 
here  all  the  enthusiasm  of  the  fresh  and  unspoiled 
traveler  returns,  and  eye  and  ear  awake  to  keenest 
observation  and  revel  and  delight  in  a  new  world 
and  a  new  people.  There  are  railroad  stations 
more  elegant  than  those  at  Alexandria,  where  the 
naked  earth  well  trodden  down  is  the  only  carpet, 
except  in  the  ladies'  waiting-room,  where  there  is 
a  plank  floor ;  divans,  too,  extend  around  this 
room,  covered  with  bright  colored  cloth  and 
upholstered  with  cushions,  but  with  seats  as  high 
or  hi^'her  than  an  ordinarv  table;  I  tried  to  climb 
up  on  one  of  them  to  rest  but  gave  it  up  as  too 
much  labor  for  the  result. 

The  railway  carriages  are  rather  rough,  but 
comfortable,  and  the  wheels  are  so  low  that  we 
are  on  a  level  with  the  crowds  of  natives  who  flock 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  389 

around    the    windows    at    every    stopping-place. 
These    natives    are    in    every    degree    of    scant 
clothing,  filth,  and  wretchedness,   yet,    with    the 
exception  of  some  sick  beggars,  they  look  gener- 
ally so  happy,  as  to  make  us  doubt  if  there  be  a 
careworn  countenance  in  Egypt.      Many  offer,  at 
the  windows  of  the  cars,  refreshments,  which  are 
heads  of  lettuce  and  salad,   necessarily  somewhat 
wilted,  or  stunted  green  vines  just  pulled  from  the 
earth,  and  bearing  a  sort  of  bean  much  eaten  here, 
or  lemons  and  oranges,   generally    carried    upon 
the  head  in  low,  large,  round  baskets,  for  it  is  as 
easy  and  natural  for  these  people  thus  to  balance 
a  load  upon  their  upright  graceful  figures,  as  for 
us  to  carry  a   bundle   in    the    hand.      When  the 
basket  is  smaller  an  extra  supply  is  stowed  away 
next  to  the  skin,  inside  the  single  garment  which 
they  wear,   and,   as  neither  the    wearer    nor    the 
garment    is    very    clean,    and,    moreover,     as     it 
is    hot,    sweating    weather,    our  appetite  for  this 
beautiful  reddish-golden  fruit,  as  extraordinary  in 
size  as   in  color,  is  somewhat  diminished.     The 
Egyptian  seems  always  to  carry  his  food  about 
his  person,  and  from  this  same  sort  of  pocket  or 
receptacle    formed    by    a    dexterous  twist  of  the 
garment,  one  sees  him  take  out  his  bread  when 
hungry,  or  thrust  it  therein  when  hunger  is  satis- 
fied.     Besides  this  there  is  plenty  of  water  offered, 
by  girls  who  nicely  balance  upon  the  head   the 


3 go  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

ever  graceful  water-jar  of  the  country,  the  same 
which  you  find  on  your  toilet-table,  on  your 
dinner-table,  and  carried  on  the  head  of  water- 
carriers  from  the  fountains  in  the  streets;  it  is  of 
common,  porous  pottery,  which  is  said  to  keep 
the  water  very  cool,  and  is  always  of  the  same 
bulb-like  shape,  round,  with  a  long  narrow  neck. 
On  the  railway  you  must  of  course  drink,  if  you 
drink  at  all,  directly  from  the  water-jar ;  fastidi- 
ousness not  being  a  grace  of  Egyptian  origin. 

At  some  of  the  minor  halting-places  few  others 
than  flocks  of  children  are  seen  ;  the  very  soil 
here  teems  with  them  ;  wherever  you  stop,  though 
it  be  but  for  an  instant,  they  swarm  around  you  as 
if  they  had  sprung  up  in  a  moment  from  amidst  the 
sand  at  your  feet,  showing  the  happiest,  merriest, 
children's  faces  I  have  ever  seen.  Their  spirits 
have  evidently  never  been  plagued  out  of  them 
by  the  training  of  the  school-room,  nor  checked 
by  the  rules  of  propriety,  nor  cramped  within- 
doors in  rainy  weather.  As  you  look  at  their 
elastic  movements  and  see  their  careless  merri- 
ment you  feel  that  there  is  a  very  full  meaning  to 
the  expression,  "  the  freedom  of  a  child  of  the 
desert,"  and  it  would  be  a  treat  indeed  to  look  at 
the  ofladness  of  their  faces  were  it  less  often 
obscured  by  dirt,  or  more  seldom  rendered  repul- 
sive by  sore  eyes,  upon  which  sores  you  often  see 
scores  of  flies  on  one  sing^le  face.     Of  course  at 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  39 1 

every  station  we  hear  little  but  repeated  and 
continued  cries  for  "backsheesh,"  which  the  new- 
comer might  be  almost  sorry  not  to  hear  ;  for  so 
frequently  does  the  word  occur  in  the  tales  of 
travelers  that  to  me  Egypt  without  its  backsheesh 
would  be  almost  as  disappointing  as  Egypt  with- 
out its  Pyramids.  But  the  children  apparently 
cry  for  it  as  much  in  sport  as  m  earnest,  and  when 
we  laugh  and  repeat  the  word  after  them  they 
take  it  as  a  frolic,  and  finally  run  after  the  train 
in  great  glee  to  pick  up  the  lumps  of  sugar  we 
throw  to  them  at  parting. 

We  pass  many  small  villages  of  mud  huts ; 
these  have  the  appearance  of  lumpy  hillocks,  or 
as  if  within  an  irregular  mound  of  clay  cubical 
rooms,  a  few  feet  square,  had  been  shaped  ;  a 
single  group  of  palm  trees  usually  spreads  its 
broad  branches  high  above  the  united  roofs,  and 
women  and  children  are  seen  sitting  on  the  ground 
outside  the  doors. 

As  we  travel  on.  the  car  reserved  for  foreigners, 
in  which  we  are  seated,  becomes  monotonous,  and 
I  long  for  a  peep  into  the  one  behind  filled  with 
natives;  so  I  cautiously  draw  near  to  the  open 
door,  and  steal  a  glance  over  a  surface  of  mingled 
white  turbans,  scarlet  fezes,  and  other  gay  and 
gaudy  colors,  and  my  eye  falls  upon  one  native 
seated  just  before  me.  whose  head  is  enwrapped 
in  the  ample  folds  of   a   brimstone-colored  scarf 


392  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

with  border  of  red  and  blue  and  who  wears  a 
loose  flowing  garment  of  the  same  hues.  But  my 
sacrilegious  gaze  is  abruptly  rebuked  by  the 
unappreciative  conductor  who  makes  himself  into 
an  "  envious  wall "  unfeeling  as  that  which 
separated  Pyramus  from  Thisbe,  and  so  shuts 
from  my  eves  this  paradisaical  vision,  and  from 
those  soul-gifted  Mohammedans,  the  sight  of  my 
unhallowed  face.  I  wait  for  him  to  withdraw, 
but  his  patience  is  as  persistent  as  mine,  and  I  at 
last  retire  to  the  seat  I  left,  just  in  time  to  see 
a  long  train  of  camels  slowly  plodding  along  the 
highway,  and,  from  then,  the  sight  of  these 
awkward  creatures  awkwardly  grazing  in  field 
and  by  road-side  becomes  more  and  more 
common. 

The  country  between  Alexandria  and  Cairo  is 
a  wide  plain.  The  extensive  and  cultivated 
fields  of  the  Valley  of  the  Nile  stretch  out  on 
either  side  ;  sheep,  donkeys,  and  a  few  oxen  are 
seen  grazing  thereon  ;  here  and  there  the  white 
gleam  of  a  tent ;  tall  palm-trees,  scattered  or  in 
groups,  wave  their  long  leaves;  the  loose  trousers, 
blue  or  white,  of  the  laborers  in  the  fields  spread 
themselves  to  their  full  width,  sail-like,  in  the 
breeze,  and  the  more  sombre  hue  of  the  women's 
garments  bespeaks  their  presence,  too.  Half-way 
between  Alexandria  and  Cairo  we  come  for  the 
first  time  within  sight  of  the  Nile,  which  the  rail- 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  393 

road  crosses  on  a  long  bridge  ;  the  river,  now 
low,  muddy,  and  ruffled  by  a  strong  breeze,  looks 
rough  and  ugly. 

Just  beyond  this  bridge  we  stop  at  a  station. 
In  an  open  shed-like  building  we  see,  for  the  first 
time,  a  Mussulman  at  his  devotions.  The  Mussul- 
man knows  that  his  God  demands  clean  hands  of 
him  who  prays  for  a  clean  heart,  and  he  never 
omits  his  ablutions  before  prayer.  For  this  man 
a  servant  holds  a  water-jar,  from  which  he  pours 
water  into  the  hands  of  his  master  who  washes 
with  it  hands,  face,  arms,  and  then,  putting  off 
his  shoes,  his  feet.  With  feet  still  uncovered,  he 
walks  to  a  carpet  of  matting  lying  on  the  ground 
quite  near,  turns  his  face  in  the  direction  of 
Mecca  and  falls  upon  the  ground  in  prayer ; 
again  he  stands  erect,  again  kneels,  each  time 
touching  his  forehead  to  the  ground,  and  thus, 
several  times  alternately  prostrate  and  erect,  and 
at  the  end  standing  and  turning  his  head  to  the 
right  and  to  the  left,  which  motion  I  have  been 
told  signifies  looking  for  Satan  whom  he  now 
challenges  to  approach,  he  thus  concludes  his 
prayer,  puts  on  his  shoes  and  walks  away. 

Here  too,  I  remark  for  the  first  time  the 
Eastern  salutation,  whose  grace  and  elegance 
make  it  worthy  of  perpetuation  through  all  time. 
Two  acquaintances  meeting,  touch  hands  without 
clasping  or  shaking  them  ;  then  bowing,  the  one 

25 


394  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

lays  his  right  hand  first  on  his  heart,  then  on  his 
lips,  and  thence  on  his  forehead,  then  turns  and 
walks  away  with  a  grace  equaled  only  by  that  of 
his  salutation.  I  have  been  told  that  the  sio-nifi- 
cance  of  these  motions  is,  first,  the  offering  of  the 
devotion  of  a  sincere  heart;  next  the  words  of  the 
mouth  in  his  service;  and  thirdly,  the  sacrifice  of 
his  head  if  heart  or  ton_^ue  prove  treacherous. 
As  we  travel  on  by-and-by  the  railroad  skirts  a 
Moslem  burying-ground,  and  such  you  should  see 
would  you  have  an  impression  of  a  barrenness 
beside  which  the  desert  looks  fertile,  an  image  of 
absolute  death,  with  no  suggestion  of  further  life 
of  spirit  or  of  matter,  hopeless  as  eternity  is  long, 
and  petrifying  your  spirit  as  you  gaze.  There  is 
not  one  blade  of  grass,  nor  a  flower,  tree  or  shrub; 
no  memorial  wreath,  no  ornament,  however 
tawdry,  symbol  of  remembrance  and  affection  of 
survivinof  friend;  no  beautiful  desio^n  in  marble; 
no  gracefully  outlined  stone  to  mask  the  ugly 
skeleton  of  death  ;  no  reverent  or  loving  inscrip- 
tion;— all  that  you  see  is  a  wide  field  baked  under 
the  burning  sun,  with  no  color,  of  earth  or  stone, 
but  the  dead  gray  of  ashes. 

The  tombs,  which  are  a  low  pile  of  stone  and 
mortar,  from  either  end  of  which  rises  a  low, 
rough-hewn,  upright  stone,  look  as  if  the  great 
army  and  "innumerable  procession"  of  the  dead 
had  indeed  here  pitched  their  everlasting  tents  in 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  395 

an  eternal  desert,  where  Death  has  built  himself  a 
fitting  throne  upon  this  ashy,  livid,  colorless  plain. 
In  the  near  distance  we  discern  the  minaret  of  a 
neighboring  mosque,  and,  beyond,  a  lonely  palm- 
tree  lifts  its  broad  leaves  high  toward  heaven,  as 
if  its  solitary  color  were  seeking  sympathy  with 
the  blue  above. 

It  is  late  in  the  evening  when  we  at  last  arrive 
in  Cairo.  There  are  plenty  of  carriages  in 
waiting,  from  which  we  select  an  open  barouche, 
with  driver  in  long  white  night-gown,  and  as  we 
roll  along  the  road  we  look  upwards  with  admiring 
gaze  to  the  wonderfully  bright  stars  sparkling 
through  the  transparent  veil  of  Egypt's  brilliant 
sky  of  night,  and  we  are  hardly  conscious  of 
fatigue  as  the  day  draws  to  a  close — our  first  day 
in  the  land  of  the  sacred  ancient  Past,  in  the  land 
where  Pharaoh  ruled,  where  Moses  was  born — 
the  land  to  which  the  babe  Christ  fled  for  refuore. 


& 


Cairo,  Egypt,  Maixh,  1876. 


396  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


XL. 

CAIRO— HOTELS— PYRAMIDS— VISIT  TO   A   BEDOUIN'S 

HOME. 

first  morning  in  Cairo  awoke  us 
refreshed  for  sight-seeing  by  our  few 
days  of  sea-travel,  and  excited,  rather 
than  wearied,  by  the  strange  impressions  of 
the  previous  day — our  first  in  Egypt.  We  had 
yesterday  opened  our  eyes  so  widely  at  so 
many  novel  sights  that  to-day  we  had  but  an 
ordinary  stare  for  the  few  un-European  features 
of  our  hotel ;  for  the  waiter  at  table — a  Greek 
in  Christian  costume  to  which  was  added  the 
universally-worn  scarlet  fez  with  black  tassel ; 
for  the  chamber-maid  man — an  Egyptian  in  scant 
costume  of  white  cotton,  shirt  and  loose  trousers, 
the  latter  reaching  a  little  below  his  knees, 
showing  the  dark-brown,  stockingless  legs,  and 
feet  thrust  into  gay-colored  leather  slippers  ;  for 
the  Arab — the  carrier  of  water  and  blacker  of 
boots,  in  costume  almost  too  slight  for  description. 
There  are  three  principal  hotels  for  European 
travelers  in  Cairo  ;  the  Hotel  Abbat,  which  we 
have  selected,  stands  directly  upon  one  of  the 
wide  thoroughfares  to  be  found  in  the  outer  part 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  397 

of  the  city^  and  here  we  can  spend  the  hotter 
hours  of  the  day  at  the  windows,  looking  down 
upon  a  moving  panorama  of  Egyptian  Hfe.  This 
avenue  is  the  principal  drive  leading  to  the 
gardens  of  the  Palace  of  Shubrah,  to  which 
gardens  the  fashionable  world  of  Cairo  daily 
drives  in  the  afternoon  ;  not  a  day  that  we  do  not 
see  one  or  more  of  the  wives  of  the  Khedive, 
each  with  her  separate  ^•^/zV^  and  equipage,  driving 
in  that  direction ;  they  are  always  dressed,  as  if 
for  an  evening  ball,  in  brig^htest  colored  silk 
robes  over  which  fall,  veil-like,  in  ample  folds, 
transparent  silken  tissues  embroidered  in  gold  or 
silver  ;  their  carriages  are  preceded  and  followed 
by  outriders  on  horse  and  outrunners  on  foot. 

The  New  Hotel,  situated  on  the  same  avenue 
as  the  Hotel  Abbat,  is  remarkable  for  its  palatial 
beauty  and  its  grand  dimensions,  but  this  one 
stands  back  from  the  road  in  the  midst  of  a 
beautiful  garden  with  majestic  tropical  trees  ;  it  is 
approached  from  the  street  through  a  pavilion 
wholly  open  at  the  sides,  its  broad,  shading  roof 
supported  by  a  large  number  of  slender,  graceful 
pillars. 

The  best  known  hotel  and  the  favorite  of 
travelers  is  the  Hotel  of  the  Nile,  the  only 
objection  to  be  offered  to  it  is,  perhaps,  that  its 
location  is  rather  too  remote  from  the  principal 
haunts   of  the  stranger,  yet  the  approach  to   it, 


398  LETTERS    OF    TRAVPX. 

markedly  characteristic  of  the  city,  winds  through 
the  narrow  and  crowded  labyrinth  of  the  streets 
of  Cairo.  Once  arrived  at  this  hotel,  you  find 
yourself  shut  off  from  all  the  busy,  crowded  life 
through  which  you  have  passed  in  your  approach 
to  it ;  the  central  court  around  which  it  is  built,  is 
a  luxuriant  tropical  garden  into  which  you  may 
step  from  your  own  room,  and  under  the  shade  of 
whose  living  roof  of  graceful^  lofty  palms  you 
may  breakfast  or  dine  ;  or  there  you  may  recline 
in  delightful,  luxuriant  languor,  so  captivated  and 
so  filled  with  the  sentiment  of  the  place  and  the 
scene,  that  European  life  seems  like  the  remem- 
brance of  a  far-back  dream,  our  distant  homes 
like  unreal  phantoms,  and  the  world  itself  so  wide, 
that  the  imagination  can  scarcely  compass  it. 

I  cannot  imagine  it  being  a  question  with  any- 
one what  he  shall  do  with  his  first  day  in  Cairo. 
What  to  do  ?  with  the  Pyramids  in  sight,  and,  by  a 
drive  of  less  than  two  hours,  within  touch  of  the 
hand  !  Our  party  of  four  is  just  enough  for  an 
open  barouche  ;  accompanied  by  the  native  guide 
or  dragoman,  whose  services  are  indispensable  to 
every  stranger  here,  and  whom,  at  a  certain  sum 
per  day,  we  engage  to  serve  our  whole  party 
during  the  time  we  remain  here,  we  start,  after  an 
early  breakfast,  to  visit  these  Giants  of  the  Desert, 
almost  since  the  beginning  of  historic  time  the 
ever-recurring  theme  of  the  traveler's  pen. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  399 

Although  it  is  very  late  in  the  season,  so  late 
that  travel  hitherward  has  stopped  and  tourists 
already  here  have  been  driven  away  and 
frightened  away  by  the  heat,  yet,  to-day,  a  cool 
breeze  so  tempers  the  sun's  rays  as  not  only  to 
render  a  winter  dress  comfortable,  but  also  the 
addition  of  a  woolen  shawl  advisable  and  almost 
necessary.  Even  from  the  broad  outlying 
avenues  of  Cairo  itself,  we  have  a  view  of  the 
Pyramids,  breaking  with  their  unmistakable  out- 
lines the  desert-hued  horizon.  Small  as  they 
look  at  this  distance  yet  are  they  unmistakably 
themselves,  and  were  one  brought  here  from  the 
antipodes  and  in  a  state  of  unconsciousness,  he 
would  immediately  exclaim  on  opening  his  eyes, 
"  I  behold  the  Pyramids."  The  road  is  excellent, 
having  been  made  the  best  possible  on  the 
occasion  of  the  visit  of  Eugenie  when  Empress 
of  the  French  ;  it  is  shaded  for  long  distances  by 
double  lines  of  acacias,  which  grow  here  very 
large  ;  a  thickly-growing  reed,  nearly  eight  or  ten 
feet  in  height,  skirts  the  road  in  many  places, 
and,  as  we  cross  the  bridge  over  the  Nile,  we 
look  up  and  down  along  its  rush-lined  banks  and 
question  for  the  spot  where 

"  Pharaoh's  fair  daughter.. 
Went  down  to  the  water 
To  bathe,  at  the  close  of  the  day," 

and  found    the   celebrated    rushian,   Moses ;    but 
whatever  we  see,  we   still   keep  our  eyes  on  the 


400  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

wonderful   monuments   beyond,   growing   in   size 
and  in  interest  with  every   step  that  we  advance. 
Besides  our  dragoman — whose  name  is  Tolbah 
and  who  always   replies  to  the  ladies  with  "yes, 
sir,"  and   "  no,  sir," — there   is  the  driver  and  the 
sais  or  outrunner  ;  our  calculations  were,  however, 
founded    in    ignorance  when  we  expected   to  be 
left  to  the  assistance  of  these  three  only.     Within 
some    two    miles    from    the     Pyramids    a    figure 
suddenly  arises  from  the  field  at  the  road-side  and, 
running  by   the  side  of  our  carriage,  accosts  us. 
His  skin  is  dark  brown,  I  might   say  like  that  of 
the  negro  were  he  not  so  different  from  that  race 
as  we  know  it;    he  is  a  very  handsome  man,  tall, 
straight,  and  elegant,  a  rich   man,  too,  our  guide 
tells  us  ;  his  features  are  fine  and  regular  with  no 
line  of  grossness  ;  his   dark  eye,  keen  and  quick 
as  a  flying  arrow,  yet  with  a  pleasant  and  friendly 
expression    revealing    the   brightness  of  a  smile 
twinkling  in  its  corners  and  hid  in  its  depths,  can 
never  be  described   nor  be  compared   with   any 
other    eye,   yet,  whoever   has    once   seen    it    will 
never  foreet  it:  this  is  a  Bedouin,  a  true  child  of 
the  desert.      His  dress  is  a  wrap  of  white  cotton 
muslin,  hanging  around  his  body  in   many   loose 
folds.     Soon  he  is   joined  by  others,  all  of  whom 
offer  their  services  as  guides  to  the  Pyramids,  to 
none  of  whom,  however,  do  we  pay  any  attention. 
We  are  interested  in  the  first  one,  and,  conversing 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  4OI 

with  him,  he  tells  us  about  his  wife,  his  family, 
and  his  child,  and  points  out  to  us  his  home 
yonder  in  the  field.  The  horses  are  going  at  a 
rapid  trot,  yet  he  keeps  ever  at  our  side  without 
abating  his  running  pace  for  an  instant,  and 
talking  all  the  time  with  no  perceptible  want  of 
breath  ;  nay,  more — he  even  obliges  us  with  a 
song,  and  if  we  do  not  discover  much  melody  in 
it,  I  yet  doubt  if  a  skillful  artist  in  music  would  do 
better  during  a  rapid  and  unbroken  run  of  two 
miles  or  more.  The  name  of  this  Bedouin  is 
Abdallah. 

Within  half  a  mile  of  the  Pyramids  the  road 
becomes  steep  and  sandy  and  we  are  now  obliged 
to  alight  from  the  carriage  and  walk.  One  by 
one,  Arab  after  Arab  has  joined  us,  and  we  find 
it  impossible  to  rid  ourselves  of  their  services. 
Each  of  my  arms  is  grasped  and  I  am  half-lifted 
from  the  ground  as  they  try  to  assist  me  through 
the  yielding  sand,  while  they  but  render  my  walk 
more  tiresome  by  their  rapid  gait.  If  I  shake  off 
one  set  I  am  immediately  grasped  or  grabbed  by 
another  two,  and,  finally,  by  the  time  we  arrive  at 
the  first  Pyramid  we  are  in  the  midst  of  a  small 
army  of  upwards  of  a  hundred  of  half-naked 
Arabs,  each  mingling,  in  imperfect  French  and 
English,  the  offer  of  his  personal  service,  or  of 
some  little  specimen  of  his  wares,  as  a  bit  of 
pottery  in   the  form  of  a  mummy,  etc.,  with  the 


402  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

Strange  accents  of  their  native  tongue  as  they 
dispute  among  themselves.  We  hardly  know 
whether  they  are  in  concord  or  in  conflict,  so 
great  is  the  confusion,  but  we  remember  that 
"  forty  centuries  are  looking  down  upon  us  "  and 
we  try  to  be  equal  to  the  occasion. 

At  last  we  stand  at  the  very  base  of  Cheops, 
the  Great  Pyramid  of  Gizah,  and  look  up  its 
slanting  side  to  the  hei8:ht  of  more  than  five 
hundred  feet.  We  do  not  all  agree  in  its  effect 
upon  us,  but  the  general  impression  leans  towards 
disappointment  in  the  appreciationof  itsmagnitude. 
I  hardly  share  in  this  feeling,  for  my  reading  of 
the  experience  of  others  has  thoroughly  prepared 
me  to  see  the  pyramid  of  my  imagination  dwarf 
when  seen  in  reality  ;  still,  as  we  gaze,  still  does 
the  wonder  grow,  and  the  giant  proportions 
unfold  minute  by  minute,  more  and  more,  filling 
out  with  reality  the  continually  expanding  power 
of  perception. 

We  give  our  first  and  longest  observation  to 
the  largest  of  the  four  Pyramids  around  us  ;  the 
stone  which  once  covered  it,  making  of  its 
surfaces  smooth  inclined  planes,  has  long  since 
disappeared,  and,  as  we  now  see  them,  each  is,  as 
it  were,  a  pyramid  of  stairs  with  steps  from  three 
to  six  feet  in  height,  of  rough  masonry,  rising 
from  base  to  central  apex. 

A  quarter  of  a  mile  distant,  the  Sphinx  lifts  its 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  403 

head  from  the  desert  plain,  and  to  it  we  next  plod 
our  way  through  the  sand,  always  in  the  midst  of 
an  army  of  Bedouins,  who  leave  us  no  peace  for 
our  thoughts,  no  freedom  for  our  steps.  Eye 
and  thought  are  rapidly  educating  themselves  to 
the  objects  of  our  view,  and  the  Sphinx  is  either 
more  impressive  in  itself,  or  is  better  appreciated 
at  first  sight,  than  even  Cheops.  It  takes  us  so 
long  to  walk  from  the  side-view  of  its  face  to  a 
front  view,  and  thence  around  to  the  other  side- 
view,  that  we  thereby  somewhat  measure  its  size; 
and,  as  we  gaze  up  to  its  colossal  features,  we 
wonder,  so  gigantic  are  its  proportions,  whether 
the  skill  of  a  human  race  has  indeed  carved  its 
own  image  from  this  mountain  of  rock,  or  whether 
the  all-powerful  hand  of  Nature,  in  love  with 
man's  face  divine,  may  not  have  attempted  an 
imperishable  image  thereof,  confiding  its  care  to 
the  giant  beast  below;  in  its  somewhat  mutilated 
features,  something  superhuman,  something  super- 
natural, something  mysterious  like  life,  seems  to 
lurk,  and  the  familiar  words  run  through  the 
mind,  "  The  Sphinx  sleeps,  when  will  she 
awake  ?" 

Near  by  is  the  Temple  of  the  Sphinx,  with 
its  walls  of  alabaster.  There  are  also  the  other 
Pyramids  with  gradually  diminishing  proportions, 
and  the  Tombs  of  the  Kings,  mammoth  sepulchre- 
chambers,  down  into  whose  wide  extent  we  look 


404  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

from  a  surroundino"  circle  of  hills  of  sand  from 
which  they  have  been  excavated ;  these  tombs 
form  a  solid  square  of  roofless  chambers,  separated 
or  joined  by  thick  walls  of  stone. 

We  retrace  our  steps  to  the  first  Pyramid,  but 
there  is  no  opportunity  for  the  quiet  contemplation 
one  so  longs  for.  "Will  you  let  us  take  you  up 
the  Pyramid?"  is  the  cry  of  fifty  Arabs  pressing 
around  us.  "No,  we  will  not!"  "Will  you  ^o 
into  the  Pyramids?"  "No,  no!"  "Will  you 
pay  this  man  to  go  up  the  Pyramid  for  you^ — he 
will  do  it,  and  down  again,  in  eight  minutes?" 
"  This  one,  he  will  do  it  in  nine — this  one  in  ten?" 
We  would  like  to  hire  the  whole  body  of  them 
and  pay  them  for  the  length  of  time  taken  instead 
of  its  shortness;  but  we  tell  them  to  select  one 
whom  they  please,  who  is  to  bring  to  each  of  us  a 
stone  from  the  summit,  and  we  make  up  a  little 
purse  for  him.  Soon  his  black  body  with  scant 
white  clothing  is  seen  mounting  from  step  to 
step,  with  a  rapidity  almost  rivaling  the  flight  of 
a  bird,  and  his  diminished  size  as  he  approaches 
the  apex,  gives  us  a  better  idea  than  aught  else  of 
its  height.  In  just  nine  minutes  from  the  time  of 
starting  he  stands  again  at  its  base,  his  breathing 
hardly  disturbed  by  this  great  feat  of  rapid  and 
difficult  climbing. 

The  sand  of   the  desert  beneath  the  mid-day 
sun   is  scorchino^  us  with  its    heat,  and  we  turn 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  405 

Cairo-ward.  Now  the  Arabs  rain  their  cries  for 
backsheesh;  they  press  into  the  carriage;  they 
block  its  wheels  and  wholly  impede  the  horses; 
we  give,  and  give,  but  in  their  love  of  money  they 
are  thoroughly  civilized.  Finally,  our  dragoman 
cries  "  enough"  to  us,  the  driver  whips  his  horses 
which  make  a  way  for  themselves,  while  a  dozen, 
or  thereabouts,  of  Arabs  still  run  by  our  side, 
keeping  up  with  the  running  pace  of  the  team 
and  demandinsf  additional  backsheesh.  This 
is,  however,  a  sort  of  legitimate  business,  a 
band  of  them  paying  the  Government  for  the 
exclusive  right  of  serving  visitors  at  the  Pyra- 
mids and  of  levying  a  tax  upon  them,  while  they 
allow  no  one  near  but  members  of  their  own 
band.  Abdallah,  whose  name  signifies  servant 
of  God,  still  stays  by  us. 

Our  companions  are  an  intelligent  and 
interesting  lady  from  the  northernmost  part  of 
Scotland,  and  her  niece;  the  former  fancies  she 
would  like  to  visit  the  Bedouin's  home  and  family; 
she  tells  him  so  and  he  is  rather  pleased.  We 
ask  permission  for  the  one  gentleman  of  our 
party  to  accompany  us,  but  it  is  not  for  a  male 
Christian  to  enter  within  the  sanctity  of  an  Arab's 
family  circle;  still  the  request  is  repeated,  and 
Abdallah,  hesitating,  fixes  upon  the  gentleman 
such  a  keen,  scrutinizing  gaze,  that  it  were  half 
worth  coming  to  Egypt  to  witness;  the  result  of 


406  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

the  examination  is  favorable  and  the  invitation  is 
extended  to  the  gentleman  likewise.  But  we  find 
that  to  reach  the  house  it  is  necessary  to  ford  a 
stream;  the  gentleman  declines  to  be  carried 
across,  and,  much  as  I  admire  the  beauty  of  our 
host,  that  is  to  be,  I  do  not  care  about  clasping- 
my  arms  around  his  neck  while  being  carried 
through  the  stream  upon  the  shoulders  of  himself 
and  an  associate  son  of  the  desert.  We  two, 
therefore,  remain  in  the  carriage  and  watch  the 
safe  depositing  of  the  two  ladies  upon  the  opposite 
bank;  we  follow  them  with  our  eyes  as  they  take 
a  path  through  a  field  of  tall  barley,  our  carriage 
keeping  abreast  of  them  till,  having  advanced  on 
the  road  about  half  a  mile,  we  see  them  arrive  at 
the  little  cluster  of  mud  huts  under  a  group  of 
palm  trees,  towards  which  their  steps  have  been 
leading  them.  Arrived  there  they  find  that 
messengers  announcing  their  coming  have 
evidently  been  sent  on  in  advance,  for  a  group  of 
women  are  squatted  on  the  floor,  and  waiting  to 
receive  them;  there  is  the  wife,  the  mother-in-law, 
the  uncle,  there  are  several  women,  and  children 
with  the  usual  fly-covered  sore  eyes.  The  house 
being  hot  and  smoky,  with  no  aperture  except 
the  door,  our  friends  suggest  it  would  be  pleasant 
to  sit  under  the  trees;  and  there  questions  are 
freely  asked  and  answered  on  both  sides,  and 
rings,  necklaces,  bracelets  and  other  jewelry  are 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  407 

brought  out,  shown,  and  even  offered  for  sale  if 
the  ladies  desire  them.  "  But  why  have  they 
left  their  husband  in  the  carriage?"  "  Because 
his  favorite  wife  is  there  and  he  thinks  more  of 
her  than  of  any  of  his  other  wives;  he  does  not 
like  to  have  her  carried  across  the  stream  and 
does  not  like  to  leave  her."  But  the  women 
want  verv  much  to  see  the  other  wife,  and 
Abdallah  is  sent  half  a  mile  to  us,  with  a  pressing 
invitation  and  assurance  of  safety;  but  here  the 
water  is  much  deeper  than  at  the  fording-place 
further  back;  to  keep  his  clothing  dry  Abdallah 
himself  must  now  be  carried  on  the  shoulders  of 
two  men  who  wade  through  the  water  up  to  their 
waists,  and  so  the  hospitable  invitation  is  again 
declined  by  us. 

Meanwhile,  coffee  is  made  for  our  friends  and 
served  to  them  in  Arab  style,  in  tiny  cups  held  in 
wrought  brass  or  gilded  holders;  at  last  making 
presents  of  money  to  the  children  who  doubtless 
expected  it — for  the  Egyptian  child  cries  for 
backsheesh  as  soon  as  it  is  born — adieus  are 
spoken,  thanks  for  hospitality  given  and  received, 
and  our  companions  return  to  us  who,  with  some 
uneasiness,  watch  their  transit  across  the  stream. 

Abdallah,  notwithstanding  our  rejection  of  his 
hospitality,  brings  to  us  in  the  carriage  a  small 
pot  of  fresh-made  coffee  and  cups  to  drink  from; 
at    parting    he    promises    a    visit    at    our    hotel; 


408  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

whether  the  visit  be  rendered  or  not,  we  shall 
always  remember  Abdallah,  our  Bedouin  friend 
of  the  Plains  of  Gizah. 

As  our  returning  carriage  rolls  smoothly  along, 
the  shadow  of  the  immense  monuments  we 
have  visited  still  projects  itself  into  our  thoughts, 
creating  there  a  mental  twilight  filled  with  the 
monumental  ghosts  of  a  great,  mysterious  Past. 

Cairo,  Egypt,  March,  1876. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  409 


XLI. 

HELIOPOLIS— MARY'S   WELL— OBELISK    OF    OUSERTAN— 

DRAGOMAN— SAI.S. 

^O  students  of  ancient  history,  to  lovers  of 
its  philosophers,  the  very  word  Heliopolis 
has  an  inappreciable  charm  ;  the  City  of 
the  Sun — that  is,  the  feeder  of  life — as  this  city 
was,  indeed,  the  mental  nurse,  the  school-room  of 
the  greatest  of  the  philosophers.  From  Cairo  to 
Heliopolis  and  back  again  is  but  a  pleasant  drive 
of  from  two  to  four  hours,  just  as  you  choose  to 
make  it.  Most  of  the  road  is  delightful,  shaded 
on  both  sides  by  very  large  acacia  trees,  which 
thrive  wondrously  in  this  soil  and  climate  ;  there 
are  also  mulberry  trees  of  most  luxuriant  growth, 
whose  berries  we  stopped  to  pluck  and  eat ;  wild 
flowers,  and  fields  of  the  famous  Egyptian  barley 
with  its  large  grains  swollen  with  the  fatness  of 
the  land,  and  its  heavy  heads  each  bearing  nearly 
twice  the  number  of  grains  of  the  barley  of  our 
country.  On  the  way  we  stopped  at  some 
gardens  belonging  to  the  Copts ;  they  were  filled 
with  rare  and  choice  flowers,  which  had  blossomed 
into  gigantic  specimens  ;  the  walks  were  lined 
with  orange  trees,   whose  fallen    flowers    flecked 

26 


4IO  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

our  paths  with  their  white  petals,  and  with  lemon 
trees  still  retaining  their  blossoms  or  dropping 
them  upon  us  in  showers  of  beauty.  But  the 
great  attraction  to  tourists,  and  to  see  which 
everybody  stops  here,  is  a  very  ancient  tree  with 
wide-spreading  branches;  it  is  a  sort  of  sycamore, 
bearing  figs  which,  at  our  visit,  were  small  and 
unpalatable.  The  tree  is  known  as  "  Mary's 
Tree,"  from  the  tradition  that  Mary  and  Joseph 
rested  under  its  shade  on  their  way  when  escaping 
into  Egypt.  In  the  garden  is  also  a  well  called 
"  Mary's  Well,"  because  she  drank  of  its  water 
while  reposing  here,  or,  as  the  common  people 
will  tell  you,  because  she  used  its  waters  to  wash 
the  clothes  of  the  babe   Jesus. 

The  once  famous  city  of  Heliopolis  has 
disappeared  like  the  dew  drunk  up  by  the  sun, 
its  sole  vestige  to  be  seen  only  in  the  ripening 
fruit  of  subsequent  ages.  But  one  stone  remains 
to  mark  its  erave.  Its  site  is  now  converted  into 
a  laree  tract  of  cultivated  fields,  with  not  a 
building,  unless  it  be  perhaps  a  mud  hut  or  two, 
for  the  habitation  of  man.  This  one  stone,  how- 
ever, is  a  remnant  worthy  of  the  great  city  which 
antedates  historv.  In  the  midst  of  a  field  of 
barley  is  a  little  spot  some  thirty  feet  in  diameter 
and  well  worn  by  the  feet  of  the  traveler.  To 
reach  it  we  leave  the  carriage  and  follow  a  half- 
trodden  path  through  the  ripening  harvest  growth 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  4II 

and  thus  arrive  at  the  Obelisk  of  Ousertan,  so 
named  from  the  king  who  erected  it,  and  who 
reigned  two  thousand  seven  hundred  years  before 
Christ.  This  is  the  oklest  known  obehsk  in 
Egypt.  One-third  of  it  is  buried  under  the 
accumulated  soil  of  fiftv  centuries,  and  it  still 
stands  from  sixty  to  seventy  feet  high.  It  is 
some  six  feet  square  at  its  base,  and  its  sides  are 
largely  covered  with  wasps'  nests.  The  four  sides 
are  engraved  from  base  to  top  with  hieroglyphics, 
each  of  whose  characters  measures  a  foot  or 
two,  and  which  present  the  outlines  of  birds, 
of  eyes,  etc.  It  once  was  one  of  several  pillars 
standing  at  the  entrance  of  the  Great  Temple  of 
the  Sun,  which  adorned  the  City  of  the  Sun  ; 
there  is  no  other  trace  than  this  of  the  ancient 
temple,  but  this  alone  is  sufficient  to  suggest  an 
edifice  of  inconceivable  grandeur.  From  one  of 
the  angles  of  the  obelisk  a  piece  is  split,  and 
Tolbah  tells  us  that  the  Khedive  once  gave  the 
column  away,  and  the  attempt  was  being  made  to 
remove  it  when  it  cried  out  with  the  voice  of  a 
child  ;  the  voice  was  listened  to  and  heeded,  and 
hence  the  monument  still  stands  to-day  on  its 
original  site. 

Besides  the  cry  for  backsheesh,  the  great 
demand  upon  travelers  is  for  the  purchase  of 
"antiques,"  which  are  thrust  continually  into  one's 
face    with    the    cry  of  "Antique?  antique.'*"  and 


412  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

we  might  have  filled  our  trunks  with  these  old 
bits  of  rusty  metal,  bone,  etc.  As  we  stood  at 
the  foot  of  the  obelisk  a  little,  tottling,  nearly- 
naked  child,  who  could  not  fairly  walk  nor  hardly 
speak,  came  to  us  holding  up  a  broken  piece  of 
miniature  mummy  in  light  green  crockery — a 
trinket  much  sold  here — and  trying  its  best  to  say 
the  word  "  antique,"  which  it  had  more  than  half 
learned  to  pronounce. 

But  besides  the  many  daily  excursions  to  be 
made,  the  conscientious  tourist  is  not  quite  content 
when  night  comes  if  he  has  not  made  the  day 
include  a  stroll  through  the  native  quarters,  one 
of  the  most  curious  of  sights,  and  the  very  place 
to  which  should  come  the  political  economist  who 
is  studying  to  ascertain  how  to  crowd  together 
the  largest  number  of  human  beings  into  the 
smallest  space  possible.  An  ant-hill  at  its  highest 
state  of  activity  is  desolate  and  deserted  in  com- 
parison with  these  quarters.  The  houses  are 
generally  very  high,  with  frequent  projecting  bay- 
windows  made  entirely  of  close-latticed  wood- 
work, and  the  streets  are  so  narrow  that  these 
windows,  if  opposite,  would  approach  each  other 
very  nearly.  The  people  are  lounging  along  the 
length  of  these  passages — their  only  streets — 
sitting  on  the  ground,  leaning  against  the  houses, 
sleeping,  eating,  talking,  musing  and  tending  their 
babies,  occasionally  at  work  at  some  light  occupa- 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  413 

tion,  but  usually  idle  rather  than  industrious;  the 
little  shops  with  food  for  sale  are  not  very  appe- 
tizing; at  one  place  a  native  woman,  coming  to  buy, 
takes  up  a  fish,  bites  a  piece  out  of  it,  shakes  her 
head  in  disapproval  of  its  quality,  and  then 
passes  on  to  bestow  her  patronage  on  a  neigh- 
borino;  vender. 

But  the  genuine  bazaars  are  the  real  bee-hives, 
and  the  traders  in  many  of  them  are  clean,  well 
dressed,  and  often  in  picturesque  attire,  or  some- 
times wearing  European  costumes — "  Christian 
dress,"  as  it  is  called  here.  The  bazaars  are  exten- 
sive, irregular  quarters,  with  intricate,  winding, 
and  intersecting,  narrow  streets,  presenting  con- 
tinuous lines  of  little  shops,  all  the  shops  in  one 
quarter  generally  containing  but  one  kind  of 
goods;  for  instance,  hundreds  of  them,  one  after 
the  other,  with  nothing  but  shoes  and  slippers,  but 
these  of  every  variety  of  color  and  degree  of  em- 
broidery; thousands  upon  thousands  of  leather 
slippers  of  bright  yellow,  much  worn  here,  also 
of  bright  red;  street  after  street  where  nothing  is 
seen  but  slippers  of  every  size,  so  covered  with 
gold  and  silver  embroidery  that  the  gay  velvet  or 
cloth  of  the  shoe  is  hardly  seen.  Another  day 
you  visit  the  bazaars  where  nothing  but  embroi- 
deries is  for  sale ;  then  there  is  the  Gold  Bazaar, 
where  only  articles  in  gold  are  to  be  found,  the 
Silver  Bazaar  of  the  same  nature,  another  with 


414  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

nothing  but  silks  from    Damascus,  another  with 
goods  from  Tripoli,  from  Tunis,  and  so  on. 

The  merchants  are  often  dressed  in  the  costume 
of  the  country  from  which  they  come.  One  of 
the  most  benignant  and  kindly  countenances  I 
ever  saw  was  that  of  an  Algerian  sitting  by  his 
commodities  and  looking  with  grave  but  gentle 
expression  upon  a  little  boy,  half  embracing  him; 
he  was  an  unusually  large  man,  with  delicate 
skin,  full  white  beard,  and  a  white  turban  of  ample 
folds  which,  in  the  dim  light  of  declining  day, 
gave  an  increased  expression  of  softness  to  his 
whole  figure. 

In  another  direction  you  come  upon  a  conglom- 
eration of  little  shops  with  nothing  but  perfumes 
and  essences  from  the  East.  The  floor  of  these 
tiny  shops,  which  the  one  occupant  almost  fills,  is 
about  as  hio^h  above  the  street  as  a  table,  and 
wide  enough  for  three  persons  to  stand  comfortably 
before  it;  the  shop  is  hardly  so  deep  as  it  is  wide; 
in  the  centre,  sitting  cross-legged  on  the  floor, 
is  the  merchant,  very  likely  dressed  in  a  long, 
gay-flowered  silk  robe,  with  tasseled  girdle  around 
his  waist,  and  becoming  turban,  his  nargileh  near 
at  hand,  while  at  either  side  and  behind  him, 
within  reach  of  his  hand  without  rising,  are  the 
shelves  containing  his  wares,  bottles  (large,  small 
and  of  every  shape)  filled  with  essential  oil,  attar 
of   roses,   etc.,   and   pastes   or    gums    of  pungent 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  415 

flavor  and  fragrance,  costly  enough  to  be  made 
into  balls  hardly  larger  than  a  pea.     These  dealers 
are  usually  rather  elegant  in  their  manners  and 
are  quite  liberal  with  their  wares,  with  which  they 
smear  your  gloves  and  face  and  moisten  yourhand- 
kerchief,  as  if  they  were  not  selling  them  at  as  near 
their  weight  in  gold  as  they  can  make  you  pay. 
The  native  Gold  and  Silver  Bazaar  is  the  most 
crowded  spot  of  all,   and    through  the  widest  of 
the    streets    it    is    but    barely    possible    for    your 
carriage    to    make   its    way,   while    at    every  few 
steps  are  litde  side-passages  so  curious  we  cannot 
resist  them,  and  in  which,  aside  from  work-benches, 
the  artisans'  little  work-benches  and   tables  placed 
close  to  the  walk,  there  is  scarcely  room  for  us  to 
press  along  in  single  file.      Here  you  see  the  pure 
gold     without     alloy,    being    beaten     by    hand- 
instruments     into   various     shapes,    as    cups,   or 
pendants  for  necklaces,  ear-rings,  bracelets,  etc., 
making  most  curious  and  quaint  ornaments.     The 
little  apartment,  quite  open  to  the  street,  is  hardly 
the  size  of  a  medium  bed,  and  in  it   and  filling  it 
you  may  sometimes  see  the  proprietor  stretched 
in  sleep,  or  the  sick  lying  on  a  sort  of  projecting 
shelf  filling  up  the  passage  and  blocking  your  way; 
in  fact,  the  people  are  so  close  together  that  they 
almost  touch  each   other,  and  you  sicken  at  the 
thought    of    some    contagious    disease    entering 
among  them. 


41 6  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  find  our  way  through 
the  mysterious  windings  of  the  bazaars  without 
the  oruidance  of  a  dragoman.  The  bazaars  must 
be  visited  during  the  day  only,  for  the  true 
Egyptian  likes  to  go  to  sleep  with  the  birds,  and 
darkness  settles  early  over  these  quarters,  from 
the  fact  of  the  narrow  streets  being  darkened  and 
protected  from  the  burning  rays  of  the  sun  by  a 
sort  of  roofing  high  above  our  heads,  and  con- 
sisting of  pieces  of  thin  board,  and  of  matting 
stretched  across  from  roof  to  opposite  roof. 

Nor  can  the  stranger  well  force  his  way  on 
foot  through  the  thronged  streets,  and  a  carriage 
is  a  necessity.  His  equipage  for  driving  through 
the  city  must  necessarily  include  at  least  three 
attendants — the  driver,  the  dragoman  and  the 
sais.  Our  driver  has  a  dark-brown  skin,  and  is 
dressed  in  a  white  cotton  gown  with  red  fez  upon 
his  head.  Tolbah,  the  dragoman,  may  always  be 
seen  entering  the  waiting-hall  at  the  fixed  morning 
hour,  punctual  as  if  he  regulated  the  sun  by  his 
movements,  or  throughout  the  day  sitting  on  the 
door-step  when  we  are  not  using  him.  Tolbah 
does  not  yet  wear  very  elegant  clothes,  for  it  is 
not  long  since  he  was  only  a  donkey-boy, 
and  ran,  half  naked,  behind  his  donkey,  which  he 
propelled  by  continuous  blows  from  his  cudgel, 
doubtless  to  the  greater  satisfaction  of  the  rider 
than  of  the  beast.     Tolbah  wears  a  long,  dingy, 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  417 

blue  dress,  so  wrapped  about  him  as  to  hang  in 
indescribable  but  most  graceful  folds,  and  a  light- 
colored  turban  twisted  around  his  head.  But 
Tolbah  one  day  has  a  fight  with  another  dragoman 
who  envies  him  for  getting  a  party  at  this  late 
season  of  the  year;  they  come  to  blows,  and 
Tolbah  whips  his  opponent.  This  we  know,  for 
he  tells  us  so;  but,  for  a  victor,  he  is  the  most 
thoroughly  scared  man  I  ever  saw;  and  now, 
every  day  when  we  come  to  a  certain  part  of  the 
city,  he  leaves  us  at  a  certain  point,  and  joins  us 
again  beyond.  He  is  hardly  down  from  the 
carriage  when  he  draws  out  from  under  his  dress 
a  black  mantle  some  half-dozen  yards  in  length, 
and  drapes  himself  in  it  so  as  to  completely  conceal 
his  face,  and  he  has  at  the  same  time  so  disguised 
his  figure  that  we,  who  have  watched  the  whole 
proceeding,  can  hardly  recognize  his  identity. 
As  we  watch  him  slinking  away  through  the 
narrow  streets,  we  feel  very  proud  that  it  was 
our  drasfoman  who  o-ave  the  other  one  such  a 
whipping. 

The  sais  is  the  peculiar  institution,  however, 
that  we  most  delicrht  in.  The  first  dav  one  of 
our  party  thought  him  rather  an  imposition  upon 
us,  and  wanted  to  know  what  that  man  was  along 
for,  but  he  found  out  before  our  arrival  home. 
The  name  of  our  sais  is  Abdallah,  and  the  day  of 
our  excursion   to  the   Pyramids   I  was  supported 


4l8  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

on  one  side  by  Mahomet  and  on  the  other  by 
Abdallah.  It  is  probable  that  the  sais  is  the  same 
as  the  herald  of  ancient  times.  He  is  the  indis- 
pensable attendant  upon  every  carriage,  although 
there  are  drives  where  he  becomes  a  mere  orna- 
ment. In  old  Cairo,  the  most  densely  populated 
part  of  the  city,  it  would  be  impossible  without 
his  services  for  the  carriage  to  make  its  way 
through  such  streets  as  are  wide  enough  to  admit 
it.  The  sais  always  runs  before  the  carriage, 
shouting  at  every  few  steps,  and  waving  his  wand- 
like rod,  the  people  press  against  the  walls  of  the 
houses,  and  thus  we  penetrate  through  the  crowd. 
The  sais,  as  an  institution,  is  the  most  orna- 
mental thing  in  Egypt,  and  the  elegance  of  his 
costume  corresponds  to  the  wealth  of  his  master. 
His  dress  is  of  white  cotton  or  linen,  reaching  in 
the  shape  of  very  loose  trousers  only  to  his  knees, 
his  legs  and  feet  remaining  quite  bare  ;  the  white 
sleeves  are  long  and  open,  each  measuring  some 
two  yards  around  the  hand,  and  the  points  of 
these  are  pinned  together  behind,  and,  filling  out 
balloon-like  with  the  wind  as  he  runs,  they  give 
to  his  rapid  course  an  aspect  like  the  winged 
flight  of  a  bird.  Over  the  white  garment,  he 
wears  a  bright  colored  sort  of  Zouave  jacket — 
red,  purple,  yellow  or  blue — which  often  only 
comes  up  over  one  shoulder  and  slants  down 
under  the  other  arm  to  the  waist.      This  jacket  is 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  419 

most  exquisitely  embroidered  in  gold,  silver  or 
contrasting  color  ;  around  his  waist  is  wound  a 
broad  sash  of  rich  silk,  its  ends  hanging  at  his 
side  ;  in  his  hand  he  carries  a  slender  rod  twice 
the  height  of  himself;  this  rod  should  be  of 
bright  color,  highly  ornamented  in  gold,  silver 
or  ivory.  Yet  it  is  not  his  dress  which  contributes 
most  to  the  impression  the  sais  makes  upon  the 
beholder  ;  it  is  the  wonderful  beauty  of  his  figure 
and  his  erace  of  motion  ;  the  wand  he  carries 
is  not  straighter  than  himself,  nor  does  it  bend 
with  greater  suppleness  and  grace,  while  his 
step  and  gait  are  the  very  poetry  of  motion. 
The  sais  is  trained  to  his  office,  and  his  powers 
are  most  wonderful ;  I  have  been  told  he  will 
run  all  day  long,  and  I,  myself,  have  seen  a  sais 
run  without  pause  mile  after  mile  before  a  fast- 
trotting  horse.  The  carriages  we  have  seen 
from  the  establishment  of  the  Khedive  have 
each  eight  of  these  attendants;  first,  two  mounted 
on  horseback  followed  by  two  running  on  foot ; 
then  comes  the  carriage,  followed  by  two  foot- 
runners  and  two  mounted  sais  behind.  The 
whole  train  passes  at  rapid  speed,  carriage,  out- 
runners and  riders  all  maintaining  a  constant 
uniform  distance  from  each  other. 

Cairo,  Egypt,  April,  1876. 


420  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


XLII. 

CITADEL  OF  CAIRO— UNIVERSITY  OF  EGYPT— MOSQUES— 
THEIR  REMARKABLE  FEATURES  AND  PROPERTIES. 

VISIT  to  the  Citadel  is  one  of  the 
items  which  the  tourist  must  never 
omit  from  his  list  of  things  of 
greatest  interest  in  Cairo.  The  Citadel,  seven 
hundred  years  old,  is  built  on  an  elevated  site 
commanding  the  city  and  surrounding  plains — the 
valley  of  the  Nile — while  behind  rises  above  it  an 
immense  natural  fortification  of  rock  looking 
terrible  in  its  immense  strength. 

From  the  parapet  of  the  Citadel  we  had  a  wide 
and  wonderful  view  of  the  strange,  dusky-hued, 
ancient  city — a  forest  of  minarets — and  of  the 
desert  stretching  out  beyond,  embracing  in  its 
horizon  the  Pyramids  of  Gizah,  and  Heliopolis, 
and  the  plains  of  Memphis  ;  the  whole  monotone 
landscape  bathed  in  the  sunbeams  from  a  cloudless 
sky — sifted,  as  it  were,  through  the  yellow  sand 
of  the  desert. 

Within  the  Citadel  we  were  shown  the  court 
where    occurred     the    terrible    massacre    of    the 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  42 1 

Mamelukes,     who    had     been     artfully      enticed 
therein,  and  where  four  hundred  and  thirty-nine  of 
them   were  put  to   death  ;  one  only,  as  the  story 
goes,  escaping  by  making  a  most  incredible  leap 
over  the  high  and  abrupt  walls.     To  the  present 
day    the   point   from    which   he   leaped  with    his 
horse   is   still   pointed   out.     Within   the   Citadel 
walls    is   also    the    Mosque   of    Mohammed    Ali, 
which  looks   quite  new,  and  is,  in   fact,  the  only 
one  we  visited  which  did  not  bear  the  marks  of 
the    grime   of    age,   of    dilapidation    and    decay. 
This  mosque  is  an  imposing  building,  of  grandest 
dimensions,  the  floor  entirely  covered  with  thick 
Eastern  carpets,  its  whole  extent  bare  of  seat  or 
other  obstruction,  except  the  four  immense  pillars 
supporting    the    great     dome,     and    intervening 
between     it    and    the    four    lesser    domes    that 
surround    it.       These    immense    pillars    are    of 
transparent    yellow    and    white  alabaster,   and    a 
large  portion  of  the  whole  surface  of  the  interior 
walls    is    of    the    same    precious    and    beautiful 
material  ;  in   one   corner,  and  inclosed  by  a  high 
gilt  bronze  railing,  is  the  tomb  of  Mohammed  Ali. 
As  we  leave  the  Citadel  we  flrst  visit  Joseph's 
Well,  which    popular  story    improperly  connects 
with  the  Joseph  sold  into  slavery  by  his  brothers; 
indeed,   the   well   was   known    as    such    in    very 
ancient     Egyptian    records ;    it    was     for    many 
centuries  filled  with  sand  and  nearly  lost;  to  get 


42  2  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

to  it  we  went  up  and  down  through  the  dirtiest 
kind  of  barnyard  and  stable  places.  The  water 
is  drawn  up  from  a  great  depth  to  nearly  a  level 
with  the  Citadel  by  means  of  a  sort  of  windlass 
and  horizontal  wheel  turned  by  two  Egyptian 
buffaloes,  which  animal  here  takes  the  place  of 
our  field  ox.  We  had  some  water  drawn  up  for 
ourselves,  and  we  all  drank  of  it  to  the  memory  of 
Joseph. 

In  many  respects  all  the  mosques,  be  they 
newer  or  older,  more  or  less  dirty,  are  alike.  In 
the  first  place  each  has  its  fountain  in  its  open, 
roofless  court.  The  fountain  is  a  pool  or  basin  of 
water  elevated  a  few  steps  above  the  pavement, 
and  is  two  or  three  feet  deep  and  some  twenty  or 
thirty  feet  in  diameter.  It  is  covered  by  a  roof 
supported  by  pillars  rising  from  the  rim  of  the 
basin  or  by  a  central  shaft.  Perched  upon  this 
rim  are  always  to  be  seen  several  Mussulmans 
performing  the  ablution  imperative  upon  them 
before  offering  their  prayer.  They  wash  them- 
selves quite  thoroughly,  face,  hands,  arms,  neck, 
feet,  nostrils,  ears  and  mouth.  The  interior  of 
the  mosques  is  empty  and  is  always  built  with  a 
mihrab  and  a  mastaba. 

The  mihrab  is  simply  a  small  arched  alcove  ;  on 
its  arch  it  generally  bears  an  inscription  from  the 
Koran.  The  mihrab  is  always  built  in  that  wall 
of  the  building   which   faces   towards   Mecca,  in 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  423 

order  that  to  the  faithful,  who  must  always  pray 
with  their  faces  in  that  direction,  it  may  serve  as 
a  sort  of  one-pointed  compass. 

The  mastaba,  or  tribune  for  readers,  corresponds 
to  the  pulpit  of  our  churches.  It  is  a  small,  high 
platform  with  a  straight,  narrow  flight  of  steps 
leading  up  in  front  of  it,  and  from  it  the  priest 
explains  the  Koran  to  the  faithful,  few  of  whom, 
I  believe,  can  read  it  for  themselves.  Christians 
are  never  admitted  to  the  mosques  during  the 
Friday  services. 

Again,  into  no  mosque  may  Mussulman, 
Christian  or  Heathen  enter  without  removing  the 
shoes  from  his  feet.  The  Mussulman  goes  in 
with  his  clean-washed  bare  feet ;  for  Christians 
there  are  always  kept  a  few  pairs  of  large  slippers 
of  plaited  grass  or  reeds.  In  one  instance  there 
were  not  slippers  enough  for  all,  and  the  odd 
member  of  our  party,  declining  to  walk  in  his 
stockine-feet,  was  oblioed  to  remain  at  the 
entrance,  where  a  crowd  of  young-  Mohammedan 
urchins  paid  their  respects  to  him  by  spitting  at 
him. 

A  large  number  of  the  mosques  are  immense, 
half  dilapidated  and  wholly  dirty  places.  The 
first  mosque  we  visited  was  that  of  Hassan. 
,  This  was  built  from  stones  taken  from  one  of  the 
Pyramids,  being  built  as  it  now  stands  without  a 
roof;  the  court  of  the  fountain  is  in  the  centre 


424  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

and   the   body  of  the   mosque   Is   a   surrounding 
colonnade,   with    pointed    arches   connecting    the 
pillars  ;  but  in  the  rear  is  the  tomb  of  the  Cahph 
Hassan,  Its  builder,  which  is  In  the  centre  of  an 
apartment    roofed    in    with    a   dilapidated    dome 
crowning    its    lofty    walls.      It    Is    said    that    the 
architect,  having  finished  his  work,  had  his  hand 
cut  off  to  prevent  his  ever  planning  a  rival  edifice. 
The   Mosque  of  Amron  Is  one  of  the  largest. 
Its  central  court  Is  a  barren,  leafless  tract  of  sun- 
baked    earth    nearly    white,    to    cross    which    at 
mid-day  Is   like  making  an  excursion   across  the 
burning  desert.      Extending  around  the  four  sides 
of  this  vast  barren  square  are  deep  colonnades 
with    roofs,   but  with    no    side-walls    toward    the 
court,  and  the  colonnade  consists  of  many,  many 
hundreds   of  stone   and   marble   pillars.     One  of 
these    has    a    remarkable    history.      It    stood    In 
Mecca,  where    the    Prophet   one    day    seeing    it, 
struck    it    with    his    whip  and  commanded   it  to 
fly    to    Cairo,  which   order    the    pillar    obeyed, 
accomplishing  the  journey  in  less  than  a  minute. 
Tolbah,  our  dragoman,  is  quite  certain  in  regard 
to  the  length  of  time.     The  mark  of  the  whip  Is 
still   to   be  seen   upon  It.     The  pillar  is   of  light 
gray  marble,  and  one  may  easily  see  a  vein  of  a 
darker  shade,  forming  a  peculiar  waved  line  about^ 
six  inches  in  length,  a  line  long  known  to  be  the 
handwriting  of  the  Almighty,  which,  however,  no 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  425 

one    could    read    until    the   gifted    Caliph    Omar 
translated  it. 

Not  far  from  the  pillar,  in  the  same  mosque, 
is  a  well  which  is  mysteriously  connected  with 
the  famous  well  of  Zem-Zem  in  Mecca,  but  we 
were  not  told  how  it  finds  its  way  through 
the  Red  Sea.  A  stone  of  the  pavement  of  the 
colonnade  forms  the  cover  to  the  well.  We 
were  told  that  a  draught  of  the  water  would  cure 
all  disease  and  insure  perfect  health  ;  hence  a 
Moslem  urchin  was  dispatched  in  quest  of  a  stone 
jug,  which  was  lowered  into  the  well  and  filled; 
it  being  raised  again,  we  all  then  drank  from  its 
overflowing  brim  and  have  known  no  illness 
since.  The  water  has  an  alkaline  taste  like  that 
of  Zem-Zem,  the  sacred  well  from  which  every 
Mohammedan  making  a  pilgrimage  to  Mecca 
drinks,  and  in  which  he  bathes. 

Another  mosque  contains  a  piece  of  black 
stone,  looking  something  like  hardened  asphaltum; 
on  this  is  the  imprint  of  a  colossal  foot — it  is  the 
footprint  of  the  Prophet.  One  of  our  party  asked 
how  that  could  be;  were  himself  to  step  on  a 
stone  there  would  be  no  impress  left.  Tolbah, 
with  turban  wound  around  his  head,  his  long  blue 
mantle  falling  in  loose  and  ample  folds  all  around 
his  person,  laid  his  hand  reverently  upon  his  hearty 
and,  rolling  his  eyes  heavenward,  said,  in  tones 
of  reproof,  "  Because  Mohammed  same  as  God." 

27 


426  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

We  felt  a  little  conscience-stricken  for  treatinof  so 
lightly  what  was  so  sacred  to  him,  and  listened 
afterward  twice  as  reverently  to  his  stories. 

But  almost  the  strangest  sight  in  Egypt  was 
at  the  Mosque  of  El  Azhan,  Here  is  the  oldest 
and  largest  University  in  all  the  East,  and  the 
number  of  students  studying  there  at  any  one 
time  may  be  counted  by  thousands.  It  was 
already  our  last  day  in  Cairo  and  we  wished  to 
visit  it.  Formerly,  Christians  were  exposed  to 
insult  here  and  a  guard  was  at  least  advisable  if 
not  necessary,  and  therefore  we  were  obliged  to 
take  one,  but  in  our  visit  we  found  no  reason 
to  suppose  that  state  of  things  still  to  exist.  We 
were  nearly  two  hours  in  an  open  carriage  under 
the  scorching  heat  of  the  mid-day  sun,  first  to  get 
a  ticket  of  admission  and  then  to  obtain  a  police 
officer  to  accompany  us.  We  drove  through 
the  wholly  native  quarters  of  old  Cairo,  and 
alighting  found  our  way  through  narrow  alleys  to 
the  Mosque  itself.  The  school  was  in  session, 
or  I  might  rather  say  in  recumbence,  as  I  suppose 
It  always  is,  for  the  students  sleep,  eat  and  study 
all  on  the  same  spot.  Around  the  court  of  the 
fountain  were  galleries  where,  as  well  as  upon  the 
ground  below,  mattresses  and  beds  were  spread 
out;  we  entered  and  found  ourselves  in  the  body 
of  the  edifice,  which  was  long  and  large,  with 
roof  and  walls  on  both  sides;  it  could  contain  at 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  427 

least  two  thousand  persons.  It  was  so  filled 
with  students  that  it  was  with  great  difficulty  we 
could  make  our  way  among  them  without  some- 
times stepping  upon  them.  These  students,  like 
all  the  rest  of  the  natives,  looked  like  half-naked, 
dirty  beggars,  who  would  hardly  be  allowed  to  be 
seen  in  our  streets.  Throughout  the  buildino- 
they  were  crowded  equally  close  together.  Of 
course  there  were  no  seats,  nothing  but  here  and 
there  patches  of  straw  matting;  some  students 
were  lying  asleep  stretched  out  at  full  length  on 
the  floor;  others,  seated  cross-legged,  were  reeling 
backwards  and  forwards  and  repeating  aloud  the 
lesson  they  seemed  to  be  committing  to  memory 
from  the  book  before  them;  others,  seated  in  the 
same  manner,  were  transcribing  or  ciphering.  I 
took  the  book  from  two  or  three  and  looked  at  it 
without  any  opposition  on  their  part;  the  books 
bore  the  impress  of  age  but  of  careful  use.  The 
students  ranged  in  age  from  boys  of  fifteen  years 
to  middle-aged  men.  Occasionally  we  came  near 
treading  on  a  spread-out,  on  the  tioor,  of  thin, 
round  cakes,  evidently  for  sale  to  the  students,  of 
whom  some  here  and  there  were  eatine,  but 
always  alone.  The  civilized  pleasure  of  social 
meals  I  judge  to  be  unknown  to  them. 

It  takes  several  days  to  visit  those  mosques 
most  worthy  to  be  seen,  but  their  whole  number 
is  innumerable.     Women,  as  they  have  no  souls. 


428  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

are  not  admitted  to  Friday  worship.  There  is 
no  hour  when  there  may  not  be  seen  a  larger  or 
a  lesser  number  of  the  faithful  at  prayer,  and  their 
successive  kneelings,  touchings  of  the  forehead  to 
the  ground,  risings  and  final  turnings  of  the  head 
from  side  to  side  are  always  the  same. 

There  is  no  mosque  without  one  or  several 
slender  minarets  rising  high  above  the  rest  of  the 
building,  and  these,  when  seen  at  a  little  distance, 
constitute  one  of  the  most  picturesque  features  of 
an  Eastern  city.  Some  of  the  mosques  are 
painted  in  broad,  lateral,  red  and  white  bands,  a 
foot  or  two  in  width. 

We  visited  one  Christian  church,  known  as  the 
Coptic  Church.  This  is  situated  in  one  of  the 
dirtiest  parts  of  the  city,  and  as  we  walked  through 
the  filthy,  narrow  lanes  the  stench  almost  choked 
us  in  spite  of  muffled  nostrils  and  mouth.  The 
Copts  are,  I  believe,  the  only  native  Christians — 
a  branch  of  the  Catholic  Church,  almost  or  quite 
the  oldest  in  the  world.  The  women  are  veiled 
the  same  as  the  Mohammedan  women,  but  with 
some  distinguishing  mark  of  color  in  their  dress. 
Arrived  at  last  at  the  church-building  we  found  it 
dark  and  dirty  enough,  and  hid  away  in  the  depth 
of  almost  unthreadable  labyrinths,  but  sufficiently 
curious  to  be  worthy  of  its  great  antiquity.  The 
inside  walls  are  very  elaborately  inlaid  with  very 
fine  open-work  carvings  in  real  ivory,  and  high 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  429 

screens  before  the  altar  are  largely  made  of  panels 
of  the  same.  The  ivory  is  brown  with  age,  and 
the  church,  though  small,  shows  everywhere  the 
marks  of  extreme  ancient  richness.  A  railing  in 
the  centre  surrounds  a  flight  of  steps  which 
descends  into  a  subterranean  chapel,  where,  during 
her  flight  into  Egypt,  the  Virgin,  with  her  Babe, 
hid  herself  for  several  days.  About  to  leave  the 
church,  an  additional  demand  was  made  upon  our 
purse,  when,  after  we  had  distributed  the  usual 
backsheesh  among  the  crowd  of  Copts  who  had 
collected  around  us,  one  of  them  seized  a  plate 
from  the  altar  and  cried,  **  Backsheesh  for  the 
Virgin  Mary!" 

Cairo,  Egypt,  April,  1876. 


430  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 


XLIII. 

EGYPT— PALACE   OF    GHEEZEH— TRAVELERS    FROM   THE 
HOLY   LAND— FAREWELL. 

\UR  interesting  excursions  in  Cairo  and  its 
vicinity  are  approaching  their  close,  but 
one  thing  we  have  not  yet  seen,  and  that 
is  "Joseph's  Granaries."  A  pleasant  and  intelli- 
gent Scotch  lady,  who  makes  one  of  our  party,  is 
most  anxious  to  see  them,  but  Tolbah,  when  he 
took  his  diploma  as  dragoman,  did  n't  graduate  in 
the  granary  department.  Every  morning  reg- 
ularly when  we  start  upon  our  drives  one  of  the 
first  remarks  is,  "Tolbah,  we  want  to  go  to 
Joseph's  Granaries  to-day."  At  first  Tolbah  tries 
to  put  us  off  by  offering  to  show  us  the  place 
where  Moses  was  found  in  the  bulrushes,  but  that 
only  sharpens  our  curiosity  for  the  granaries. 
Tolbah  evidendy  consults  other  dragoman 
authority,  and  next  tells  us  that  they  do  not  exist 
any  more — "  it's  all  the  same  as  the  street;"  but 
then  we  want  to  see  the  street,  the  place  where 
they  once  were,  and  so  we  torment  Tolbah  with 
Joseph's  Granaries  till,  I  have  no  doubt,  he  wishes 
Joseph  had  never  built  them. 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  43 1 

Day  by  day  the  weather  is  increasing  in  heat 
and  warning  us  to  make  the  best  use  of  our  time; 
and,  although  we  start  at  an  early  hour,  we  are 
almost  scorched  by  the  sun   as  we  drive  across 
the    Nile    to   visit    the    Palace    and    Gardens   of 
Gheezeh.       The  palace    is  built  directly  on   the 
river  bank.     The  gardens  are  lar^e  and  beautifully 
laid   out;    they    also  present    a   good    display    of 
flowers,  but  we  could  not  help  saying  to  ourselves, 
"Were    this    already  beautiful    spot    but    in    the 
hands    of     a    skillful    and    educated     European 
gardener,    what    a    paradise    it    might    become." 
There  was  also  an  extensive  zoological  department 
well  filled  with  a  great  variety  of  animals,  from 
all  kinds  of  elephants  to  the  prettiest  and  most 
curious    birds.       After    wandering    through    the 
gardens  as  long  as  we  could  endure  the  heat,  we 
next  turned  our  steps  to  the  kiosk,  a  one-story 
summer-house  containing  several  apartments,  and 
which   pleased  me  even  more  than  the  palace  a 
little    beyond — in  fact,   it    impressed    me   as    the 
most  charming  house  I  ever  saw.      It  is  fitted  up 
chiefly  in   European  style  for  the  entertainment 
of  European  royal  guests.     The  kiosk  consists  of 
some  six  or  eight  large   and  lofty   rooms.     The 
ceilings  are  frescoed  in  delicate  colors;  crystal  and 
gilt  chandeliers  are  suspended  from  them,  while 
the  floors  are  all  of  most  beautiful  marble  highly 
polished,  the  centre  only  of  some  of  them  being 


432  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

covered  with  carpets,  brilllant-hued  and  very 
thick;  the  furniture  is  European,  and  upholstered 
in  brio^ht-colored  satins  and  damasks. 

But  the  architecture  is  the  most  pleasing  part. 
The  rooms  all  open  into  each  other,  and  the 
length  of  the  building  is  broken  in  the  centre  by 
a  court,  roofed  overhead,  but  with  open  sides  ;  its 
marble  pavement  is  on  a  level  with  the  marble 
drawing-room,  which  opens  upon  it  at  one  end, 
and  with  the  marble  dining-room  at  the  other  end. 
A  fountain  rises  in  its  centre,  and  vari-colored 
swinging  lamps  are  suspended  from  the  roof, 
which  is  supported  by  graceful  arches  resting  on 
pillars  extremely  slender  and  graceful,  yet  not 
giving  the  idea  of  fragility.  These  pillars  and 
arches  are  dark-colored  and  elaborately  gilded. 
A  balcony  in  the  same  style  of  architecture 
surrounds  the  kiosk.  One  of  the  rooms  was 
noticed  by  the  attendant  who  waited  upon  us  as 
the  one  where  the  Khedive  best  likes  to  sleep 
when  here,  but  in  reply  to  our  remark  that  no 
bed  was  to  be  seen,  we  were  told  that  one  is 
always  brought  in  when  the  Khedive  wishes  to 
sleep  in  this  apartment;  hence  it  may  be  taken  for 
granted  that,  like  his  subjects,  the  Khedive  of 
Egypt  sleeps  on  the  floor  and  finds  it  very 
convenient  to  roll  up  his  bed  and  carry  it  to  what- 
ever spot  may  be  coolest. 

The    dining-room    was    European,    with    long 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  433 

table  and  chairs,  two  for  royalty  being  ornamented 
with  crowns.  The  mirrored  sideboards  were 
resplendent  with  white  and  colored  glasses  of 
choicest  desio-n.  There  were  Sevres  vases  on 
pedestals  and  some  four  or  five  fountains  around 
the  room  to  sprinkle  their  falling  water  upon  the 
flowers  with  which  their  basins  were  to  be  filled. 

From  the  kiosk  we  again  stroll  through  the 
garden,  till  we  come  upon  a  grotto,  or  rather  a 
gallery  of  grottoes,  built  of  a  sort  of  artificial  lava 
rock,  and  very  curious.  Through  winding 
passages,  in  which  we  become  lost  and  confused, 
we  make  our  way  between  rocky  walls  and  under 
a  roof  hung  with  stalactites.  At  intervals  the 
passage  widens  out,  or  turns  aside  into  larger 
grottoes  which  usually  command  through  opening 
vistas  a  peep  into  the  gardens.  Such  grottoes 
are  fitted  up  with  rustic  seats  and  table.  All  the 
ground  under  foot  is  laid  in  a  mosaic  of  pebbles, 
and  we  notice  gas-burners  projecting  here  and 
there  from  the  walls  for  illuminating  the  grotto 
at  evening. 

Emerging  from  the  grotto  into  the  garden 
again,  we  advance  through  shady  avenues  of 
trees,  and  finally  reach  the  palace  itself,  a  fine, 
modern  building.  We  were  not  admitted  to  the 
part  occupied  by  the  women,  but  were  shown 
many  royal  rooms  and  those  destined  for  the  use 
of  European  royal  visitors. 


434  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

On  the  ground  floor  we  first  enter  an  immense 
marble  hall,  among  the  various  furniture  of  which 
we  notice  tables,  flower-stands,  and  so  forth,  in 
fanciful  design  and  painted  red,  with  trimmings 
of  blue  and  gold.  All  is  gay,  for,  ever  as  you 
approach  the  equator  from  the  north,  beginning 
perhaps  to  be  marked  in  the  latitude  of  northern 
Italy  and  Turkey,  the  taste  for  bright  colors 
grows  with  the  brightening  skies  and  more 
glowing  sunlight.  A  broad  marble  stairway 
ascends  from  this  hall ;  it  is  lighted  overhead  by 
a  roof  elaborately  set  in  glass,  chiefly  yellow, 
which  color  seems  to  gild  the  golden  rays  of  the 
sun  ;  on  either  side  of  the  banister  at  the  foot  of 
the  stairs  are  two  exceedingly  pretty  statues  in 
marble;  half-way  up,  where  the  stairway  branches 
ofl"  to  the  right  and  to  the  left,  is  a  piece  of 
marble  sculpture  representing  a  winged  youth 
seated  on  the  parapet  of  a  tower,  and  laughing  as 
if  playing  with  the  lightning  as  he  holds  the 
upper  end  of  the  lightning-rod  fastened  to  the 
wall  of  the  tower  beneath  him  ;  underneath  is  a 
bas-relief  medallion  of  Benjamin  Franklin,  with 
the  motto  in  Latin,  "He  snatched  the  lightning 
from  heaven."  We  should  much  sooner  have 
expected  to  see  Moses  than  Franklin  in  this 
place. 

At  the  head  of  the  stairs  is  another  hall,  with 
walls   and   floor   of  white    marble ;    its    windows 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  435 

open  upon  a  balcony  looking  down  directly  upon 
the  broad  waters  of  the  Nile  and  across  to  grand 
old  Cairo  on  its  opposite  shore.  The  colored 
sunlight  descends  through  the  roof  of  glass  upon 
furniture  shining  with  golden  satin  looking  like  a 
bed  of  sunlight,  its  glare  tempered  by  an  embossed 
lace  pattern  in  silvery  silk.  High  vases  of  rare 
Egyptian  marbles  break  the  long  lines  of  the  hall, 
and  chandeliers  of  rich  cut  glass  catch  the  light 
to  send  it  dancing  through  the  air  in  broken  bits 
of  rainbow. 

We  were  shown  the  rooms  occupied  by  the 
Prince  of  Wales  during  his  visit  here  on  his 
Indian  journey.  His  bedroom,  dressing-room 
and  bathroom  were  all  fitted  in  bright  blue  and 
gold;  all  the  rooms  in  the  palace  seemed  as  high 
as  a  whole  house  with  us,  and,  of  course,  the 
tropical  climate  must  demand  extremely  lofty  and 
spacious  apartments.  The  walls  of  the  bed- 
chamber were  upholstered  in  blue  satin  forming 
diamond- shaped  puffs,  held  in  place  by  rosette- 
buttons  of  yellow  and  white  satin  that  resembled 
tiny  marguerites  or  daisies;  the  ceiling  overhead 
was  frescoed  with  a  centre-piece  representing 
Aurora  scattering  flowers  ;  the  bed  was  hung  with 
a  mosquito-net  of  white  silk  gauze  striped  with 
blue,  outside  of  which  were  blue  satin  curtains 
festooned  and  trimmed  with  fringe  and  tassels  of 
gold-colored    silk ;     furniture,    writing    materials, 


436  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

everything,  was  of  the  same  color.  The  walls  of 
the  adjoining  dressing-room  were  in  quilted  satin 
like  the  bed-chamber,  but  the  ceiling  overhead 
was  covered  with  blue  satin  plaited  into  a  pattern 
whose  various  parts  were  divided  by  lines  of 
golden  silk  cord.  In  the  bathroom  the  walls 
were  of  plain  blue  satin,  and  the  ceiling  overhead 
of  blue  velvet  with  rays  of  yellow  cord.  After 
these  rooms  we  were  shown  into  many  other 
apartments,  all  of  equal  richness  and  size,  but 
European  rather  than  Eastern  in  character.  In 
the  whole  palace  there  was  but  one  picture,  and 
that  one  not  extraordinary,  and  there  was  but 
little  sculpture.  One  of  the  most  beautiful 
features  of  the  palace,  and  one  repeated  in  several 
of  its  apartments,  were  chimney-pieces,  consisting 
of  mantel  and  mirror  frame,  apparently  all  in  one 
piece,  of  very  beautiful  white  alabaster,  having  a 
polish  like  satin;  the  model  of  these  corresponded 
with  the  architecture  of  the  palace  and  kiosk; 
the  same  slender,  delicate  columns,  the  same 
beautiful  arches. 

On  our  way  home  we  visited  the  royal  stables. 
The  greater  number  of  the  horses  had  gone  to 
the  sea-shore  for  the  Summer,  and  those  we  did 
see  were  mostly  English  horses  under  the  care  of 
an  English  groom.  The  Arab  horse  is  not  at  all 
the  handsome  horse  I  had  imagined  it,  and  its 
most  striking  feature  is  the  shortness  of  its  neck  ; 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  437 

in  fact,  the  Arab  horse  has  almost  no  neck  at  all. 

:;■;  :^  ^  ii;  i-\  ijf 

From   Carlo,  as    from  other    places,   we  carry- 
away    pleasant     remembrances    of     dinner-table 
acquaintances     and     entertaining     chance     com- 
panions.     Our  Scotch  lady  friend  contributes  to 
the  bill  of  fare  of  the  day's  sight-seeing,  side-dishes 
of  anecdote  from  the    most   northern  county   of 
Scotland,  where  to  shave  the  beard  of  a  Sunday 
or  to    receive    a    letter  on   that  day  is    a   crime 
immeasurably  more  heinous  than   getting  drunk 
or  telling  lies  about  one's    neighbors.     One  day 
the  company  at  table  was  individually  airing  its 
knowledge  of  the  Koran  and  Mohammedanism  in 
general,  when  this  lady  and  another  seeking  to 
give  even  the  Prophet  his  due,  credited  him  with 
having  done  some  things  that  at  least  are  not  bad. 
At    table   was  also  a  Scotch    divine,   in  general 
charge    of     the    whole     field     of     Presbyterian 
missionary  labor  in  Turkey,  Egypt  and  Palestine, 
and   such    opinions    were    more    than    rigid    and 
inveterate  Scotch  Presbyterianism  could  bear,  and 
it  was  worth  the  most  effective  eloquence  from 
practiced  dramatist  on  the  stage  to  hear  the  rich 
Northern    accent,    the  full    rolling  of  the  voice, 
the  Scotch  curtness  and  the  Scotch  decision  with 
which  he  exclaimed,   somewhat  sarcastically,  "  I 
don't  know  what  you  ladies  think,  but  /  think  he 
was  a  s-c-o-u-n-d-r-e-l !  " 


438  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

At  last  our  pleasant  little  company  separates  in 
diverging  directions,  and  we  retrace  our  way  to 
Alexandria,  thence  for  a  tour  through  the  isles  of 
the  Mediterranean,  notwithstanding  that,  lying 
temptingly  near  us  is  the  Holy  \^2ind. par  excellence, 
for  the  thoughtful  wanderer,  in  distant  journeyings 
reading  ever  backwards  through  the  world's 
history,  comes  at  last  to  feel  that  wherever  he 
treads  is  holy  ground. 

Our  further  path,  however,  meets  the  current  of 
returning  travel  from  Asia,  and  we  learn  much  at 
second-hand  from  the  yet  fresh  impressions  of 
numerous  travelers  thence;  still  more  from  others, 
long-time  residents  there  ;  moreover,  we  escape 
the  reputation  of  being  possessed  by  an  evil 
spirit,  the  belief,  as  we  learn  from  one  who  has 
spent  a  life-time  among  them,  that  the  Eastern 
natives  entertain  regarding  their  European  visitors, 
whom  they  also  suppose  to  be  driven,  by  the 
same  evil  spirit,  from  one  part  of  the  world  to 
another  in  search  of  hidden  treasure. 

Nor  are  there  wanting  lessons  from  the  Holy 
Land  of  the  Mohammedan  as  well  as  from  that  of 
the  Jew  and  the  Christian,  as,  sailing  hither  and 
thither,  from  island  to  island,  and  from  port  to 
port  of  the  Eastern  Mediterranean,  on  almost 
every  steamer  we  find  the  space  allotted  to  such 
passengers  overcrowded  with  pilgrims  returning 
from  Mecca,  most  of  them  ragged,  dirty,  carrying 


LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL.  439 

bed    and    food    as   they   travel,    yet    impelled  by 
religious  sentiment  to  this  most  sacred  pilgrimage 
with  observance  of  its  prescribed  ceremonies,  and 
at  cost  of  danger,  distress  and  sacrifice  of  scant 
wealth  ;  their  simple-minded  devotion  admonishes 
us — curious  lookers-on,  claiming  to  be  guided   by 
a  superior  light — as,  far  from   minareted-mosque, 
they  yet  hear  in  their  hearts  the  muezzin-call  of 
the  Spirit,  and  in  humble   response,  unheedful  of 
our   obtrusive   gaze,    turn   their  faces  to  Mecca, 
and,  kneeling,  repeat  the  prayers  of  the  Faithful. 
But  it  is  easier  to  talk  of  leaving  Alexandria 
than  to  do  it.     Thinking  we  have  traveled  enough 
to    be    able   at   least  to  get  on  board  a  steamer 
without  assistance,  we  take  no  porter  with  us  from 
the  hotel.     The  carriage  stops  on  the  wharf,  and 
a  small  army  assails  us.      It  is  with  the  greatest 
difficulty  that  we  retain  possession  of  our  hand- 
satchels    and    lighter   baggage;    once    from    our 
grasp    and    each    will    be    carried    in    a  different 
direction,  and  which  shall  we  follow?    Unable  to 
get  hold  of  our  baggage,  a  dozen  different  boat- 
men   seize    hold    of    us    by    arm,    shoulder    and 
package  ;  a  spare  hand  grabs  our  trunk,   and  we 
follow  it  to  the  door  of  the  Custom-house,  where 
one  of  the  Arabs,  or  robbers,  or  whatever  they 
be,    demands    that    we    pay    duty    on   our  trunk 
leaving  the  country.     We  think  he  has  for  once 
made  a  mistake  in  the  word,  but  as  he  doesn't 


440  LETTERS    OF    TRAVEL. 

call  it  backsheesh  and  as  there  is  nobody  to  help 
us,  we  pay  this  self-constituted  Custom-house 
officer  what  he  demands,  on  condition  that  he 
shall  put  our  trunk  into  a  boat,  and  we  finally 
embark  with  it  for  the  steamer  lying  out  in  the 
harbor.  We  think  it  a  master-stroke  of  policy  to 
have  engaged  a  deaf  and  dumb  boatman,  but  we 
change  our  mind  when,  a  few  yards  from  the 
shore,  the  mute  lays  down  his  oars  and  holds  up 
his  fingers,  demanding  more  passage-money, 
howling  then  and  making  the  most  hideous  noises 
close  to  our  ears  and  refusing  to  understand  all 
our  signs.  We  find  there  is  no  talking  back  to  a 
man  without  ears,  and  so,  finally,  rather  than 
spend  the  rest  of  our  lives  in  the  harbor  of 
Alexandria,  midway  between  ship  and  shore,  we 
submit  to  a  compromise.  The  mute  upon  that 
takes  up  his  oars,  and  we  are  soon  ascending  the 
ship's  ladder,  and  a  half-hour  later  looking  our 
last  upon  the  low,  receding  shore,  dividing  with 
its  white  line  the  blue  of  the  heavens  above  from 
the  blue  of  the  waters  below. 

Cairo,  Egypt,  April,  1876. 


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